■I'".'."  •■"".:  .^j.:viiiAi.'/l/r/f. 


i/jJMiJJJJ////Mj/,- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


* 


SHAKESPEARE  STUDIES 


IN 


BACONIAN  LIGHT 


BY 

ROBERT      M .       r  H  h:  O  B  A  L  D,        iM  .  A  . 

(Author   of  " Detlironing   Shakespeare" :  former  Editor  of 
"  The  Bacon  journal  "). 


.9    •       ••  » 


SAN  J-K.\.\(;i.s(()  : 
JOHN       HOWKLL,     4;,4.      Post     Strkkt. 


PKtNTF.D  nv 

THf.    MARSHALL    Pk^:SS,    LTD., 
LONDON,    \V.C.2. 


>'. 


5? 


T3fs 


.^ 


Obcroii. — Now,  my  Titania,  wake  you,  my  sweet  Queen  ! 


(J        Titania. — My  Oberon  !  what  visions  have  I  seen  ! 
Methought  I  was  enamoured  of  an  ass. 

Oberon. — There  lies  your  love  ! 

Titania.  How  came  these  things  to  pass  ? 

O,  how  mine  eyes  do  loath  his  visage  now. 

Obci  on.  — Silence  awhile  !     Robin,  take  off  this  head. 
r^  '  M.  N.  D. 

^       Are  you   native  of  this  place  ?     Your  accent  is   something  finer 
than  you  could  purchase  in  so  removed  a  dwelling. 

As  You  Like  It. 

What  a  thrice-double  ass 

Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  god, 

And  worship  this  dull  fool  ! 

Tempest. 

Ass  !  I'll  take  that  burden  from  your  back. 

King'J^oJin. 


rl\A 


o 


1978')9 


TABLE     OF     CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface   .           .           .           .           .           .           .  .       .         ix. 

Chap.  I. — Preliminaries        .            .            .            .  .            .       i 

Chap.  II. — Presumptive  Evidence                     .            .  .           lo 

Section  i.     Shakspere's  Personal  History         .  .             .10 

2.  Greene's  Groatsworth  of  Wit              .  .           13 

3.  Probabilities            .             .             .  .             .16 

4.  The  Lawyer      .            .            .            .  .18 

5.  The  Aristocrat       .            .            .  .            .20 

6.  The  Classical  Scholar  ....  24 

7.  Various  Accomplishments             .  .            -24 

8.  Shakspere  Biography               .            .  .          26 

Chap.  III. — Francis  Bacon  .            .            .            .  .            .32 

Section  i.     The  Scholar  and  Man  of  the  World  .  .          32 

2.  The  Poet    .            .            .           .  .            -34 

3.  Bacon's  Concealments             •            •  •          35 

4.  Bacon's  Literary  Output   .            .  .            -3^ 

5.  Bacon's  Assurance  of  Immortality      .  .          40 

6.  Personal  Characteristics    ,            .  .            -43 


» 
» 
>» 
it 
It 


(i)   Striking  the  Breast       ...  43 

(2)  Bacon's  Fall           .            .            .  -45 

(3)  Bacon's  Self -vindication         .  .          47 

(4)  Bacon's  Dramatic  Faculty            .  .     48 

(5)  Bacon's  Verdict  against  Himself  .          49 

Chap.      IV.— I  Cannot  Tell             .            .            .            .  .    54 

Chap.       V. — Companionship  in  Calamity        .            .  .64 

Chap.     VI.— The  Philosophy  of  Wonder.            .            .  .80 

Chap.    VII. — Bacon's  Philosophy  of  Hope       .             .  .           95 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Chap.  VII  I. —B 

icon's 

"  Sai 

tor  Resartus" 

.    109 

Section  i. 

Garment  ot  Folly 

113 

n              -• 

» 

State  and  Pride 

•    113 

3- 

It 

Sobriety  or  Sadness 

114 

4- 

» 

Mirth  ' 

.    114 

»        5- 

)> 

Humility 

115 

6. 

>> 

Virtue 

.    115 

7- 

» 

Content 

116 

8. 

>) 

Sanctity 

.    117 

9- 

!' 

Love 

117 

„           lO. 

}} 

Strangeness  . 

.    117 

Chap.  IX. — Love  and  Business  :  liacon's  Essay  of  Love  com- 
pared with  the  Treatment  of  Love  in  Shake- 
speare ...... 

The  Problem  .... 

Mistaken  View  of  the  Essay  . 

The  Essay  of  Love  :    Its  Real  Import     . 

Bacon's  Praise  of  the  Worthiest  Affection    . 

Restricted  Use  of  Love  in  Shakespeare  . 

Love  in  the  Historical  Plays  . 

Love  in  the  Tragedies 

Love  in  the  Comedies 

Love  always  Subordinate  in  Shakespeare 

Love  in  the  Minor  Poems 

Love  Lyrics  .  .  .  . 

Conclusions      ..... 

The  yEthiope         .  .  .  . 

Love  Engendered  in  the  Eye 

Folly  and  Love  Connected  General!}-     . 

Chap.  X. — Pliilosophical  Maxims  .... 

Section    i.     Mines  and  Forges 


Section 

I. 

n 

2. 

}> 

.1- 

J) 

4- 

n 

3- 

7) 

6. 

y} 

7- 

}} 

8. 

a 

9- 

l> 

10. 

}} 

II. 

»> 

12. 

M 

13- 

)> 

14. 

M 

15- 

2. 

Miracles  and  Misery 

3- 

Sunshine  Everywhere 

4- 

The  Genesis  of  Poetr> 

5- 

Money  and  Muck  . 

6. 

Pilst  and  Future 

7- 

8. 

Impossibilities 
Piiysiognomy. 

9- 

Sleep 

126 

127 

127 
129 

130 

131 

133 
136 

143 

154 

156 

157 
159 

160 

161 
163 

167 
167 

171 

174 
178 
179 
180 
182 
184 

185 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

PAGE 
Section    lo.     Nature  and  Art  ....         187 

,,  ri.  Nature  and  Fortune  .  .  .  .188 

„  12.  Primum  Mobile  ....         191 

,,  13.  Philosophia  Prima  ....  194 

,,  14.  Conclusion        .....         197 

Chap.  XI. — The  Promus       ......  199 

The  Procus       .....         208 
Hail  of  Pearl  .  .  .  .  .212 

Ulysses.  .  .  .  .  .213 

Voluntary  Forgetting        .  .  .  .216 

Like  One's  Self.  ....         218 

Chap.    XII. — -Echoes  and  Correspondencies         .  .  .  223 

Chap.  XIII. — The  Scholarship  of  Shakespeare  .  .         286 

Section  i.     Classic  Allusions   .....  294 
„  2.     The  Classical  Plays      ....         308 

„         3.     Grammatical  Forms  ....  309 

Chap.  XIV. — The  Classic  Diction  of  Shakespeare       .  .318 

Appendix  ox  Marlowe        ......  415 

IxDKX  I. — Shakespeare  Quotations  ....  489 
„  II. — ^Classical  Words  in  Chap.  xiv.  ....  492 
,,  III.- — General  :  Topics  and  Names  .  .  .         497 


Section 

I. 

j> 

2. 

)i 

0- 

>> 

4- 

>} 

5* 

PREFACE. 


In  the  world's  literature  the  greatest  name  is  Shakespeare. 
Equally  true  is  the  assertion  that  in  the  world's  literature 
there  is  no  greater  name  than  Bacon.  Shakespeare  and 
Bacon,  if  they  are  to  be  distinguished,  were  contem- 
poraries ;  the  apparatus  of  scholarship,  books,  colleges, 
teachers,  and  all  the  accumulations  of  literary  creation, 
which  they  used,  were  the  same  for  both.  If  they  stood  on  an 
equal  literary  level  they  must  have  cHmbed  the  heights  by  the 
same  paths,  and  at  much  the  same  time,  and  one  would  think 
they  must  have  elbowed  one  another  during  the  ascent.  And 
yet  neither  of  them  refers  to  the  other,  even  by  the  most 
covert  allusion.  Still  the  identical  culture  must  assert  itself 
whether  it  is  acknowledged  or  not,  and  accordingly  we 
find  that  the  two  groups  of  writings  perpetually  touch  one 
another,  and  each  may  supply  the  other  with  innumerable 
lights  of  interpretation.  Notwithstanding  these  cross  lights 
of  mutual  reflection,  the  separate  students  of  each  seem 
resolved  to  keep  them  apart.  In  the  elucidation  of  Bacon's 
philosophy  Shakespeare  is  neglected,  in  the  interpretation  of 
Shakespeare's  poetry  Bacon  is  neglected.  If  any  comparison 
is  made  between  them  it  is  usually  one  rather  of  grammatical 
form  and  structure,  than  of  interior  soul  and  substance. 
At  the  same  time  it  is  a  commonplace  in  Bacon  biography 
to  bracket  the  two  names  together  as  representing  literary 
production  equal  in  value,  and  similar  in  quality  :  though 
as  a  rule  this  approximation  is  expressed  in  general  terms, 
while  particular  applications  are  rarely  supplied.     One  of 


X  PREFACE. 

the  reasons  for  this,  with  the  more  recent  critics  and 
biographers,  is  a  most  tremulous  timidity  arising  out  of  an 
apprehension  of  being  compromised  by  association  with 
that  most  obnoxious  group  of  quasi-hterary  persons  who 
advocate  the  personal  identit}'  of  Bacon  and  Shakespeare. 
If  some  singular  resemblance  in  thought  or  expression  is 
pointed  out,  the  critic  hastens  to  separate  himself  from 
those  who  see  more  in  this  than  a  casual  and  quite  acci- 
dental resemblance.  "  Do  not  suppose,"  the  critic  eagerly 
explains,  "that  I  assert  that  Bacon  wrote  Shakespeare, 
because  I  point  out  these  identities  in  style  or  idea  :  ' — the 
imputation  is  too  terrible,  and  the  critic  protests  his 
orthodox}'  by  most  severe  comments  on  the  mental — 
almost  moral — unsoundness  that  can  arrive  at  such  a 
distressing  conclusion. 

I  am  persuaded  that  Shakespearean  comment  and  anno- 
tation has  suffered  severely  from  this  resolute  determination 
to  keep  the  two  groups  of  writings  apart;  and  one  design  of 
this  volume  is  to  protest  against  this  neglect  of  Baconian 
light  on  Shakespeare,  and  to  show,  by  signal  examples, 
what  a  rich  field  of  illustration  and  interpretation  is  thus 
ignored.  Let  these  great  poems,  we  say,  be  brought  into 
relationship  with  all  Elizabethan  literature  which  can 
supply  helpful  elucidation.  We  ask  for  no  exceptional 
favour  for  Bacon's  writings — we  only  ask  that  they  should 
take  the  place  that  rightfully  belongs  to  them.  If  the 
result  is  that  our  theory  forces  itself  forward  either  as  a 
corollary  lawfully  deduced  from  these  comments,  or  as  a 
hypothesis  that  may  be  used  to  account  for  them — let  it  be 
so  ;  that  is  only  fair  play  and  no  favour. 

But  oh,  most  gentle  and  gentlemanly  critics,  do  be 
patient  and  tolerant  about  it ; — be  not  so  indelicately 
angry  !  Cease  your  clamours  and  asperities,  and  denuncia- 
tions and  vituperations,  and  let  us  talk  over  the  matter 
gravely  and  calmly,  without  vulgar  abuse  or  heated 
imputations  !  Perfervid  disputation  always  has  a  flavour 
not    only    of    extravagance    but    of    insincerity,    and   we 


PREFACE.  XI 

Baconians  find  it  extremely  difficult  to  persuade  ourselves 
that  you  yourselves  believe  all  the  hard  things  you  say 
about  us.  You  call  us  half-educated  Philistines,  crazy 
Baconizers,  ignorant  cranks,  or  mad  moon-rakers,  though 
you  must  know  that  we  number  in  our  ranks  men  as 
sound  in  judgment  and  as  well  equipped  in  learning  as 
yourselves.  It  is  high  time  that  all  this  nonsense  should 
stop.  Such  missiles  do  not  hurt  us,  they  would  amuse  us 
if  their  exhibition  of  bad  temper  were  not  saddening  and 
discreditable.  Our  case  is  a  very  intelligible  and  a  very 
lawful  one.  Our  argument  holds  the  field,  and  it  has  come 
to  stay.  We  are  quite  content  to  abide  the  issue  of  sound 
reason  and  exhaustive  research,  and  we  decline  to  retaliate 
by  the  use  of  the  weapons  which  are  so  freely  employed 
against  us.  For  no  Baconian,  so  far  as  I  know,  seeks 
to  help  his  cause  by  personal  abuse  or  intolerant 
and  wrathful  speech.  All  this — as  is  usually  the  case  in 
analogous  instances — is  the  monopoly  of  the  conservators, 
and  is  no  part  of  the  armoury  of  the  innovators.  Nothing 
can  banish  our  thesis  except  demonstrative  proof  on  a  very 
large  scale  that  some  other  explanation  of  the  genesis  of 
Shakespeare  is  more  credible  and  better  supported  by  facts 
than  ours. 

The  reader  of  the  following  pages  should  carefully  keep 
in  mind  the  distinction  that  is  invariably  observed  between 
Shakspcre  and  Shakespeare.  The  word  Shakspere  always 
means  Mr.  William  Shakspere,  of  Stratford-on-Avon. 
The  word  Shakespeare  always  means  either  the  writer  of 
the  plays  and  poems  which  are  known  by  this  patronymic, 
or  else  the  poetry  itself,  apart  from  any  question  of  author- 
ship. And  when  I  speak  of  Shakespeare  as  an  author,  or 
of  the  collected  writings  under  this  title,  I  do  so  "  without 
prejudice."  By  using  current  phraseology  I  make  no 
concession  to  current  notions  attached  to  it.  It  is 
necessary  to  premise  this  because  many  Baconians  think 
that  by  speaking  of  "Shakespeare"  as  an  author  we  give 
away  our  case  and   use  language  that  misrepresents  our 


Xll  PREFACE. 

thoughts.  I  do  not  think  so.  My  impression  is  that  when 
the  time  comes  for  a  general  recognition  of  Bacon  as  the 
true  Shakespeare,  the  poetry  will  still  be  called  "Shake- 
speare," and  that  no  one  will  find  anything  compromising  in 
such  language,  any  more  than  we  do  when  we  refer  to  George 
Eliot  or  Georges  Sand,  meaning  Miss  Evans  or  Madame 
Dudevant.  In  using  Bacon's  nom  de  plume  we  are  but 
accepting  his  own  leading,  while  we  reserve  an  interpreta- 
tion which  he  did  not  himself  supply,  but  left  to  posterity 
to  discover.  Indeed,  the  word  Shaksperc  itself,  so  spelt,  is 
quite  arbitrary.  It  might  be  Shaxpur,  or  Shagspur,  or 
any  of  the  few  score  spellings  which  were  current  in 
Warwickshire  in  the  i6th  century.  Among  these  our 
particular  William  seems  to  have  made  no  election  ;  for  no 
one  can  find  for  the  name  any  standard  spelling  in  any  of 
his  varied  and  almost  indecipherable  signatures. 

One  more  claim  I  make,  namely,  that  the  Baconian 
theory  should  not  be  confounded  with  any  of  the  specula- 
tions that  are  often  associated  with  it — cipher  speculations 
especially.  While  I  may  say  that  my  own  attitude 
towards  them  is  chiefly  sceptical,  yet  I  decline  to  embarrass 
the  main  argument  by  these  collateral  and  somewhat 
irritating  discussions. 

R.  M.  Theobald. 

Blackheath,  S.E., 

September,  1901. 


SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN 
BACONIAN    LIGHT. 


CHAPTER     I. 
PRELIMINARIES 


It  is  quite  possible  for  whole  generations  of  thoughtful 
men,  and  of  educated,  experienced  critics,  to  entertain  a 
belief  which  is  absolutely  unsound  and  absurd,  without 
being  conscious  that  that  belief  is  open  to  debate  at  all. 
Tradition  floats  and  supports  countless  errors.  But  it  is 
also  possible  that  the  debateable  qualit}'  of  the  false  belief 
may  flash  upon  anyone's  convictions  instantaneously,  and 
then  for  ever  after  it  ceases  to  occupy  any  settled  resting 
place  in  his  mind.  For  example,  the  idea  that  William 
Shakspere  wrote  the  plays  and  poems  attributed  to  him 
was  for  me  not  so  much  a  persuasion  as  a  settled  tradition, 
never  interfered  with,  till  one  day,  visiting  a  friend,  and 
looking  over  his  excellent  and  well-selected  library,  I  took 
up  Gerald  Massey's  book  on  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  and 
asked  my  friend  if  he  had  formed  any  opinion  about  it. 
His  reply  was  to  this  effect  :  "  Doubtless  the  book  is  good 
enough  in  its  way;  but  if  you  want  to  get  clear  light  as  to 
the  genesis  of  Shakespeare's  poetr}^  you  should  read  this;" 
and  he  put  into  my  hands   Nathaniel  Holmes's  book  on 

B 


2  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

"The  Authorship  of  Shakespeare."  As  soon  as  the  book 
was  in  my  hand,  the  persuasion  took  hold  of  my  mind  that 
this  question  of  the  authorship  of  Shakespeare  was  one 
open  to  debate,  and  that  Holmes's  conclusion  was  probably 
right.  My  conversion  was  of  the  most  orthodox  and 
instantaneous  character,  and  the  belief  then  adopted  has 
never  been  disturbed.  But  although  the  central  truth 
came  suddenly,  the  reasons  and  arguments  to  support  it 
could  not  thus  immediately  enter  into  the  mind.  That 
moment  was  the  starting  point  of  a  long  course  of  study. 
I  read  all  I  could  get  hold  of  by  Bacon,  and  re-read 
Shakespeare,  and  kept  the  two  in  perpetual  juxtaposition 
for  years,  until  the  persuasion  which  came  by  a  flash  of 
intuition  ripened  into  a  strong  and  well-grounded  convic- 
tion, resting  on  facts  and  arguments,  solid  and  secure  as 
mathematical  demonstration. 

Now  I  do  not  expect  many  persons  to  change  their 
traditional  belief  in  this  rapid  fashion  ;  but  I  do  think 
that  it  does  not  require  much  study  or  painful  reflection  to 
see  that  the  question  itself  is  quite  a  lawful  one,  not  to  be 
settled  by  a  snap-finger  dismissal  of  derision  The  literary 
robe  of  the  man,  William  Shakspere,  is  evidently  a  misfit  ; 
the  garment  is  too  big  and  costly  for  his  small  and  insignifi- 
cant personality.  But  so  securely  has  the  name  of  William 
Shakespere  fastened  itself  on  the  grandest  creations  of  all 
literature,  that  even  those  (perhaps  especially  those)  who 
have  devoted  themselves  to  Shakesperean  studies  all  their 
life,  have  failed  to  see  that  the  previous  question  of  author- 
ship has  to  be  admitted  as  one  element  in  their  studies. 
One  eminent  Shakesperean  writing  to  an  equally  eminent 

Baconian  says,   "  We  traverse  your  premises,  Mr.  S ; 

there  is  no  doubt,  and  therefore  there  is  no  necessity  for 
enquiry."  For  him  then  the  problem  is  non-existent,  but 
the  unabashed  dogmatism  of  such  a  settlement  is  rather 
surprising.  Another  distinguished  Shakespearean  student 
and  author  wrote  to  me  as  follows  :  "  In  the  Bacon- 
Shakespeare  controversy  I  take  no  interest  whatever.     To 


OUR    GENTLE    CRITICS.  3 

establish  the  Baconian  authorship  of  Shak=pere's  works, 
two  things  have  to  be  proved  :  first  that  Shakespeare  did 
not  write  the  plays  and  poems  attributed  to  him,  and 
secondly  that  Francis  Bacon  did.  As  I  have  never  yet 
seen  a  prima  facie  case  made  out  for  the  former  of  these 
propositions,  I  have  no  inclination  to  consider  seriously 
the  so-called  arguments  by  which  it  is  attempted  to  prove 
the  latter."  This  is  perfectly  fair  language,  and  with  such 
convictions  there  is  no  reason  why  any  attention  should  be 
given  to  the  opposing  thesis.  I  cannot,  however,  refrain 
from  expressing  my  astonishment  that  any  competent 
Shakespearean  scholar  should  fail  to  perceive  the  enormous 
difficulty  of  accounting  for  the  possession  of  Shakespearean 
attributes  by  such  a  man  as  William  Shakspere  must  have 
been. 

Other  critics  are  not  so  civil.  Indeed,  a  discreditable 
habit  has  arisen  of  reviling  and  insulting  those  who  advo- 
cate the  Baconian  authorship  of  Shakespeare.  Measureless 
and  supercilious  contempt,  with  much  affusion  of  vmsa- 
voury  epithets  is  meted  out  to  us  by  these  gentlemen. 
We  are  ignorant,  or  cracked,  or  joking  or  paradoxical, — 
we  are  idiotic,  characteristic-blind  as  certain  persons  are 
colour-blind,  and  "the  tomfoolery  of  it  is  infinite.''  That 
is  pretty  fair  for  one  "  gentleman  :  "  and  he  is  the  leader  of 
the  clan.  Another  member  of  this  Hooligan  type  of 
critics  writes  thus  to  a  friend  in  America,  for  publication 
in  an  American  journal  : — "  Not  a  single  adherent  of  any 
weight  has  joined  the  Baconian  party  here.  A  few  persons 
who  believe  that  we  are  the  ten  tribes,  and  that  Arthur 
Orton  was  Sir  Roger  Tichborne,  and  that  Tennyson's 
sister  was  the  author  of  '  In  Memoriam,' — people  for  whom 
evidence  does  not  exist,  and  who  love  paradox  for  its  own 
sake,— form  the  whole  Baconian  schism  over  here."  This 
sweetly  reasonable  and  gentle  writer  does  not  seem  to 
concern  himself  with  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  these  reck- 
less assertions. 

He  gives  the  bastinado  with  his  tongue  ; 

Our  ears  are  cudgellcfl. 


4  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Other  critics,  again,  adopt  a  tone  of  weariness,  a  'don't 
bother  '  sort  of  air  ;  they  arc  fatigued  with  these  stupidities, 
they  are  so  busy  counting  the  weak  and  strong  endings, 
the  run-on  hues,  the  central  pauses,  the  rhymed  couplets, 
the  unstopped  lines,  and  so  forth,  that  they  have  no 
reserve  of  mental  activity  for  our  case.  They  can  go  into 
paroxysms  of  rapture  over  some  hoax  of  a  portrait,  or  some 
trumpery  ring  or  wooden  stool,  which  can  by  any  process 
of  straining  evidence  or  torturing  facts  be  associated  with 
their  fetish;  but  when  the  problem  to  be  discussed  is,  the 
relation  between  "Shakespeare  "  and  the  greatest  intellect 
that  ever  illuminated  literature,  himself  a  contemporary, 
living  within  an  easy  walk  of  the  assumed  author,  likely  to 
know  all  persons  and  all  books  worth  knowing  in  his  own 
country  and  time. — when  this  is  the  problem,  our  critics 
begin  to  yawn,  and  beg  to  be  excused  from  taking  interest 
in  these  unprofitable  discussions.  It  really  seems  as  if  the 
sweet  swan  of  Avon  had  by  some  Circcean  witchcraft 
transformed  his  followers  into  geese. 

Dr.  Hudson,  one  of  the  most  capable  of  Shakespearean 
critics  and  biographers,  dismisses  the  Baconian  theory  in 
the  following  summarj^  style  :  — 

"Upon   this   point    I  have  just   four  things   to   say, — 

1.  Bacon's  requital  of  the  Earl's  bounty  [the  Earl  of 
Essex]  was  such  a  piece  of  ingratitude  as  I  can  hardly 
conceive  the  author  of  King  Lear  to  have  been  guilt)^  of. 

2.  The  author  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  whatever  he  may 
have  been,  certainly  was  not  a  scholar.  He  had  indeed 
something  vastly  better  than  learning,  but  he  had  not  that. 

3.  Shakespeare  never  philosophises.  Bacon  never  does 
anything  else.  4.  Bacon's  mind,  great  as  it  was,  might 
have  been  cut  out  of  Shakespeare's,  without  being 
missed"  ("Shakespere  :  His  Life,  Art,  and  Character"  by 
Rev.  N.  H.  Hudson,  LL.D.,  Vol.  I.  269). 

This  is  not  serious  argument,  and  it  would  be  simply  a 
waste  of  time  and  words  to  discuss  it.      All  these  "four 


THE  APOTHEOSIS  OF  PARADOX.  5 

things "    are    either  extremely   debateable,     or    infinitely 
doubtful,  or  plainly  inaccurate,  or  vaguely  indefinite. 

Other  critics  seem  to  take  a  frisky  delight  in  claiming  for 
William  Shakespere  exactly  what  no  one  has  ever  found  or 
can  find  in  him,  while  others  deny  to  the  poet  accomplish- 
ments which  he  Unquestionably  possessed.  Thus,  one 
adventurous  advocate  of  the  Stratford  claimant  says : 
"Every  careful  student  or  critic  is  inevitably  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  works  must  have  been  written  either  by 
Shakespera  or  by  some'man  whose  education  and  experi- 
ence were  likg,Ulis.  His  life  is  a  key  to  much  that  would 
otherwise  be  perplexing  in  his  writings  ;  "  which  is  exactly 
the  conclusion  that  no  careful  student  or  critic  can  possibly 
adopt,  and  which  even  good  Shakespearean  scholars,  such 
as  Charles  Knight  and  Grant  White,  are  forced  to  abandon. 
These  extraordinary  assertions  are  made  by  a  writer  who 
probably  knows  that  the  profoundest  and  most  philosophi- 
cal Shakespearean  critic  who  ever  lived,  Coleridge,  in  view 
of  these  same  facts,  is  absolutely  non-plussed  by  the 
anomalies  suggested  by  what  is  known  of  William  Shak- 
spere,  and  what  we  know  must  have  been  the  character  of 
the  true  author.  "What,"  he  exclaims,  "are  we  to  have 
miracles  in  Sport  ?  Does  God  choose  idiots  by  whom  to 
convey  divine  truths  to  man  ?  "  While  Emerson  cannot 
marry  the  facts  of  Shakespeare's  life  to  the  verse  ;  and 
Hallam,  nauseated  by  the  unsavoury  gossip  and  unclean 
rumours  associated  with  Shakspere's  name,  despairing,  yet 
with  noble  rage,  calls  for  the  Shakspeare  that  heaven 
made — not  the  one  that  earth  supplies. 

I  do  not  name  these  writers  because  I  desire  to  avoid 
personal  attack. 

And,  after  all,  what  have  these  critics  to  show  in  support 
of  their  singular  contention  that  Shakespeare's  poems  are 
illuminated  and  illustrated  by  Shakspere's  life?  Absolutely 
nothing  !  There  is  not  a  single  passage  in  the  poetry  that 
becomes  more  interesting  or  more  clear  by  reference  to 
anything   known    about  the    Stratford   playwright.     Pro- 


6  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

fessor  Dowden   has  written   a  thoughtful  and  suggestive 
book  on  the  "Mind  and  Art  of  Shakspere,"  showing  the 
noble  personal  qualities  that  are   dimly  reflected    in   the 
plays.     All  he  says  is  beautiful  and  interesting  so  long  as 
William  Shakspere  is  kept  at  a  distance — so  long  as  we 
follow  Ben  Jonson's  sly  suggestion  and  "look  not  on  his 
picture,  but  his  book."     But  as  soon  as  the  Warwickshire 
rustic  is  admitted,   the  dignity  and  vraiscviblance  of  the 
argument     vanishes  —  the     whole     matter     becomes,     in 
Baconian    language,     "preposterous,"    grotesque,    topsy- 
turvy.    For  instance,    here   is   an   eloquent  and   weighty 
passage  —  which    it    is    a    pleasure    to    transcribe: — "If 
Shakspere  had  died   at    the    age    of    40,    it    might    have 
been  said,  '  the  world  has  lost  much,  but  the  world's  chief 
poet  could  not  have  created  anything  more  wonderful  than 
Hamlet.''     But  after  Hamlet  came  King  Lear.     Hamlet  was 
in  fact  only  the  point  of  departure  in  Shakspere's  immense 
and  final  sweep  of  mind — that  in  which  he  endeavoured  to 
include  and  comprehend  life  for  the  first  time  adequately. 
Through  Hamlet,  perhaps  also  through  events  in  the  poet's 
personal  history,  which  tested  his  will   as  Hamlet's  was 
tested,  Shakespere  had  been  reached  and  touched  by  the 
shadow  of  some  of  the  deep  mysteries  of  human  existence. 
Somehow  a  relation  between  his  soul  and  the  dark  and 
terrible  forces  of  the  world  was  established,  and  to  escape 
from  a  thorough  mvestigation  and  sounding  of  the  depths 
of  life  was  no  longer  possible."     True  !  most  true  !  and  if 
we  go  to  Bacon's  life  to  find  out  what  were  these  stern 
facts  which  about  the  time  that  Lear  was  written,  reached 
and  touched  his  soul,  and  forced  him  to  include  and  com- 
prehend the  deepest  mysteries  of  existence,  we  shall  find 
the  events  which  cast  those  deep  shadows  in  the  plays. 
For  about  this  time — between  1600  and  1604 — the  terrible 
tragedy  of  Essex's  fall  tested  and  tortured  his  spirit.     For 
twent}^  years  he  had  been  a  struggling  disappointed  man, 
his    transcendant    powers    neglected    or    put    to    ignoble 
drudgery,  forced  to  battle  with  sordid  cares  and  envious 


PROF.    DOWDEN  S    GLORIOUS   GUESSES.  7 

obstruction.  He  had  lost  his  only  brother  Anthony,  his 
second  self,  his  "comfort,"  as  he  pathetically  calls  him, 
the  one  man  in  the  whole  world  who  understood  and 
valued  him  aright.  His  mother,  after  years  of  mental  and 
physical  decay,  had  died,  her  splendid  faculties  having 
been  long  clouded  and  distorted  by  madness.  His  dearest 
hopes  connected  with  that  philosophic  reformation  which 
was  nearest  his  heart  seemed  to  be  removed  from  their 
fruition  by  inaccessible  distance ;  his  great  nature  fretted 
in  solitude  against  the  barriers  and  hmitations  which 
seemed  to  baffle  its  most  cherished  aspirations. 

Here  we  see  the  agony  and  conflict  which    Professor 
Dowden  so  eloquently  describes  ;  here  is  the  cry  of  anguish 
which  is  echoed  in   Hamlet's  strife  with  destiny,  and  in 
Lear's  wild  wail  of  unutterable  pain.     If  Professor  Dowden 
had  been  able  to  search  in  this  direction  for  the  original 
of  the  portrait  which  he  draws  of  ''The  Mind  and  Art  of 
Shakespeare,"  how  would  his  deepest  speculations  have 
been  more  than  justified  !     What  new  and  profound  and 
precious  comments  would  he  have  made  if  he  could  have 
brought  his  glorious  guesses  into  this  historic  environment ! 
It  is  almost  shocking,  it  is  inexpressibly  humiliating,  to  see 
his   attempts  to   establish   a   rapport   for    them   with   the 
vulgar,  hollow  mask  of  a  life  which  is  all  that  research  can 
possibly  find   in   the   Stratford   personality— a   shrunken, 
sordid  soul,  fattening  on  beer  and  coin,  and  finding  sweet- 
ness  and   content    in   the   stercorariiim    of   his    Stratford 
homestead.     Professor  Dowden  does  not  apparently  shrink 
from  this  desperate  approximation,  and  here  is  the  result : 
"  Shakspere  had  by  this  time  mastered  the  world  from  a 
practical  point  of  view.     He  was  a  prosperous  and  wealthy 
man."     That  is  all  !     Here  is  the  issue  of  these  glorious 
guesses  ;  only  this,   and   nothing  more  !     Oh,  most  lame 
and  impotent  conclusion  !     "  Sounding  the  depths  of  Hfe,** 
"including   and  comprehending"   its   hardest    problems, 
means  only  filling  his  pockets  with  gold — "Mastering  the 
world   from    a  practical    point   of    view,"   simply    means 


8  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACO>IIAN    LIGHT. 

making  his  fortune  and  retiring  to  the  inglorious  obscurity 
of  Stratford-on-Avon.  He  "somehow"  encounters  the 
dark  and  terrible  forces  of  the  world,  and  the  result  is  seen 
in  the  bulging  of  his  breeches  pocket,  and  remunerative 
transactions  in  malt  and  money-lending.  It  is  indeed 
difficult  to  understand  how  a  thoughtful  writer  can  endure 
such  intellectual  contortions,  how  he  can  willingly  undergo 
the  throes  and  agonies  of  parturient  and  mountainous 
thought,  and  then  give  birth  to  this  feeble,  and  funny,  and 
most  ridiculous  mouse. 

In  advocating  the  Baconian  authorship  of  Shakespeare, 
we  are  often  confronted  with  the  fact  that  for  nearly  three 
hundred  years  the  reputed  authorship  was  accepted  with- 
out suspicion.  In  reference  to  this  I  may  quote  a  remark 
made  by  Mr.  Spedding  respecting  the  paper  called 
"  Christian  Paradoxes,"  which  was  attributed  to  Bacon  by 
many  learned  Editors  and  Writers,  and  that  without  any 
dispute,  for  many  years.  When,  however,  capable  critics 
seriously  inspected  it,  they  refused  to  accept  the  current 
opinion,  and  in  1864  Rev.  Alexander  Grosart  discovered 
the  true  author — Herbert  Palmer.  Spedding's  discussion 
of  the  case  may  be  taken  mutatis  mutandis,  as  a  very  apt 
vindication  of  the  Baconian  argument,  as  one  lawfully  and 
reasonably  raised.  "  I  know  "  he  says,  "  that  in  refusing  it 
a  place  among  his  works  I  am  opposing  myself  to  the 
many  eminent  writers  who  have  accepted  it  without 
suspicion  as  his.  But  it  is  the  absence  of  suspicion  that 
diminishes  the  value  of  their  opinion.  They  have  not 
explained  away  the  difficulty;  they  have  overlooked  it." 
This  is  exactly  our  case.  The  so-called  testimony  in- 
volved in  contemporary  allusion,  simply  means  absence  of 
suspicion, — unconsciousness  of  difficulty.  As  soon  as 
suspicion  is  aroused,  it  is  absolutely  impossible  that  it 
should  ever  again  subside.  (See  Spedding's  "Life  of 
Bacon,"  vi.  129.) 

I  have  no  intention  of  giving  any  exhaustive  exposition 
of    the   Baconian    case.      Indeed  that   is  practically   im- 


UNTRODDEN    FIELDS.  9 

possible  for  any  one.  The  student  who  seeks  to  define 
the  relation  that  exists  between  Bacon's  prose  and  Shake- 
speare's poetry  enters  on  a  quest  which  has  no  terminus. 
Every  fresh  reading  in  either  group  of  writings  brings  out 
new  points  of  comparison,  new  features  of  resemblance. 
My  primary  object  is  to  show  what  a  vast  and  neglected 
quarry  of  Shakespearean  comment  is  to  be  found  in 
Bacon's  prose  works,  and  to  present  some  striking  illustra- 
tions of  these  "  Bakespeare  "  studies.  If  this  is  part  of  the 
Baconian  polemic  it  is  still  more  a  contribution  to  Shake- 
speare study.  I  wish  also  to  show  that  this  educational 
field  is  much  larger  than  has  been  hitherto  supposed  ;  that 
Shakespearian  poetry  and  Baconian  philosophy  are  to  be 
found  in  unsuspected  localities — that  our  controversy  is 
not  a  barren  wrangle  about  names  and  persons,  but  a  rich 
and  fruitful  excursion  into  the  choicest  plains  of  literature, 
a  country  worthy  of  investigation  on  its  own  account,  and 
involving  other  issues  than  those  of  authorship,  or  patent 
rights  in  special  literary  property. 

Before,  however,  entering  on  these  scattered  studies,  it 
may  be  well  to  exhibit  some  features  of  that  prima  facie 
case  which  is  so  strangely  invisible  to  eminent  Shakespeare 
scholars.  Those  who  hold  a  brief  for  William  Shake- 
speare, seem  to  me  to  hold  in  needless  contempt  such 
common-sense  judgments  as  are  easily  apprehended  by 
unlearned  and  non-critical  readers.  Indeed  it  seems  to 
me  that  Carlyle's  cynical  estimate  of  the  intellectual 
qualities  of  the  human  race  is,  in  this  case,  far  more 
applicable  to  learned  critics  than  to  the  unlettered  public. 


10 


CHAPTER     II. 

PRESUMPTIVE     EVIDENCE. 

The  presumptive  evidence  belongs  almost  exclusively  to 
the  negative  or  Shakespearean  side  of  the  case.  To  prove 
a  negative  is  proverbially  difficult,  consequently  this  it  is 
which  we  are,  as  a  rule,  challenged  to  do.  This  also  I 
think  we  can  do  ;  but  it  must  be  by  indirect,  not  direct, 
proof — it  must  come  as  an  inference  from  the  positive 
proofs  of  the  other,  the  affirmative  side  of  the  case.  These 
negative  presumptive  evidences,  however,  are  very  strong, 
and  may  be  not  unreasonably  thought  to  comply  with  the 
cornering  and  unreasonable  demand  that  the  negative 
should  be  proved. 

I. — Shakespeare's  Personal  History. 

The  m.ere  enumeration  of  all  that  we  know  about 
William  Shakspere,  his  family,  his  neighbours,  his  en- 
vironments, his  actual  pursuits,  supplies  a  large  instalment 
of  this  evidence,  especially  when  what  we  do  not  know, 
but  ought  to  know,  if  he  was  the  man  he  is  represented  to 
be,  is  added  to  what  we  do  know. 

William  Shakspere  when  a  boy  certainly  had  no  very 
considerable  educational  advantages.  I  do  not  mean  in 
the  matter  of  School  Education  ;  there  is  no  positive  proof 
that  he  had  any.  But  he  was  not  surrounded  by  culti- 
vated people.  John  Shakspere,  his  father,  signed  his 
name  by  a  mark.  So  did  most  of  the  aldermen  and 
burgesses  of  the  town.  So  did  Shakspere's  daughter, 
Judith,  when  she  married,  in  1616.     It  is  not  antecedently 


THE    EVOLUTION    OF    WILLIAM    SHAKSPERE.  II 

probable  that  Shakspere  was  better  educated  than  his 
father  and  the  leading  men  of  his  town.  He  n:iarried — 
with  needful  and  discreditable  haste — when  he  was  i8. 
Before  he  was  21  he  had  a  family — three  children  and  a 
wife, — and  his  father's  broken-down  household  to  look 
after,  and  more  or  less  to  support  :  and  about  this  time  he 
was  apparently  compelled  to  leave  Stratford,  his  youthful 
frolics  having  brought  him  into  trouble.  This  must  have 
been  the  time  when  the  true  Shakespeare  was  studying 
diligently,  and  filling  his  mind  with  those  vast  stores  of 
learning, — classic,  historic,  legal,  scientific,— which  bore 
such  splendid  fruit  in  his  after  life. 

The   needy,   struggling  youth   came  to   London   about 
1585,  and  no  distinct  traces  of  him  are  to  be  found  till 
1592.     By   that  time  he  had  become  a  fairly  prosperous 
theatre  manager.     This   was  very  creditable  to  him  :  he 
must  have  been  a  hardworking  man  of  business  ;  but  it  is 
not   easy   to   imagine   that   he   could  have  been  also   an 
unremitting   student.     There   is   something   incompatible 
between   the   gifts   which    are    required    for    commercial 
success,  especially  in  young  manhood,   and  those  which 
achieve  eminence  in  poetry  and  literature.     The  blank  in 
Shakspere's   life,   which    no   research  can    fill    up,   occurs 
exactly  where  we  might  expect  it  to  be.     When  a  man  is 
burrowing   painfully    from    the    depths    of    poverty    and 
obscurity,  trying  perhaps  to  redeem  his  youthful  faults  and 
recover  from  the  misfortunes  they  have  brought,  striving 
to  reach  the  sunshine  of  opulence  and  \v0rldl3'  success,  he 
is   of  necessity   hidden   from  public  view.     He  becomes 
visible  when  the  process  is  completed.     And  by  the  nature 
of  the  result  one  may  pretty  safely  infer  the  character  of 
the   toil    he   has   undergone.     If  a   needy,    and   probably 
deserving  vagabond  dives  into  the  abyss  of  London  life, 
lies  perdu  for  a  few  years,  and  then  emerges  as  a  tolerably 
wealthy  theatrical  manager,  you  know  that  he  must  have 
gained  some  mastery  of  theatre  business, — he  must  have 
made  himself  a  useful  man  in  the  green  room,  a  skilful 


12  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

organiser  of  players  and  stage  effects, — he  must  have  found 
out  how  to  govern  a  troop  of  actors,  reconcihng  their  rival 
egotisms  and  utilising  their  special  gifts  ;  how  to  cater  for 
a  capricious  public,  and  provide  attractive  entertainments. 
He  would  have  little  time  for  other  pursuits — if  a  student 
at    all    his   studies    would    be    very   practical,    relating   to 
matters   of    present    and    pressing    interest.      During    this 
dark  period  he  has  been  carving  his  own  fortune,  filling  his 
pockets,  not  his  mind  ;   working  for  the  present,   not  for 
the  future.     But  it  was  exactly  then  that  the  plays  began 
to  appear.     Some  critics  have  even  supposed  that  the  twin 
plays,  2  and  3  Henry  VI.,  saw  the  light  about  the  same 
time  as  Shakspere's  twins  were  born.     Most  confidently  I 
submit  that  this   personal    history  is  not  what  might  be 
expected  of  Shakespeare.     I  need  not  recapitulate  here  all 
the  known  facts  about  William  Shakspere.     I  will  only 
say  that  not  the  remotest  trace  of  any  connexion  between 
him  and  learning  can  be  found.     His  known  occupations, 
apart  from  theatre  business,  were   money   lending,   malt 
dealing,    transactions   in    house   and    land   property.     He 
retired   from   the   stage,    and   settled-  again   in   Stratford, 
about  the  year  1603 — not  seeking  the  society  of  cultivated 
persons,   not    choosing    for    his   home  any  locality  where 
books  could  be  obtained  to  help  him  in  the  composition  of 
the  yet  unwritten  plays.     His  Will  makes  no  reference  to 
literary  property,  and  no  provision  for  the  publication  of 
the  plays  which  first  appeared  seven  years  after  his  death. 
All   that   can    be    ascertained    about    William    Shakspere 
leaves   the   biography    of  the    poet    of    Shakespeare    still 
unwritten,  and  does  not  supply  one  shred  of  explanation  of 
the  genesis  of  the  plays. 

The  whole  matter  may  be  summed  up  in  the  eloquent 
words  of  Mr.  Allanson  Picton  : — "  A  biography  of  Shake- 
speare, in  any  proper  sense  of  the  word  is  not  only 
difficult ;  it  is  impossible.  For  the  development  of  his 
character,  the  dawn  of  his  powers,  the  pre- determining 
causes  involved  in  genealogy,  the  influence  of  schools  and 


SHAKSPERE    BIOGRAPHY    IMPOSSIBLE.  I3 

schoolmasters,  of  relatives,  friends  and  social  surround- 
ings, are  in  this  case  almost  entirely  irrecoverable.  He 
flashes  suddenly  upon  us  like  the  sun  in  the  tropics,  blaz- 
ing with  a  light  which  drowns  every  feeling  but  one  of 
dazzled  admiration.  And  he  sinks  as  suddenly  into  the 
blank  night  of  death,  with  scarcely  a  trace  of  those  private 
interests,  personal  conflicts,  struggles  with  temptation,  or 
domestic  trials,  which,  like  flying  clouds,  temper  the  glow, 
and  lend  a  tenderness  to  the  departure  of  the  day  in  its 
more  familiar  course.  This  ignorance  of  all  detail  in  the 
origin  and  shaping  of  our  transcendent  poet,  makes  us 
often  contemplate  him  with  the  sort  of  unsatisfied  longing 
that  affects  us  in  view  of  a  portent  of  which  neither  science 
nor  philosophy  can  give  any  account.''' 

Both  what  is  known  about  William  Shakspere,  and 
what  is  not  known,  supply  the  prima  facie  evidence  against 
the  claim  made  for  him  which  eminent  Shakespeare 
students  profess  themselves  unable  to  discover. 

2. — Greene's  "Groatsworth  of  Wit." 

It  will  be  found  that  the  contemporary  allusions  to 
Shakespeare — not  excepting  Ben  Jonson's  poem  prefixed 
to  the  folio  of  1623,  have  no  bearing  on  the  question  of 
authorship.  If  any  of  them  shew  that  the  writer  of  the 
allusion  supposed  the  Stratford  townsman  to  be  the  author 
of  Shakespeare,  I  do  not  care  to  dispute  the  fact.  The 
question  still  remains — what  ground,  beyond  rumour  and 
title  pages,  had  they  for  this  opinion  ?  and  did  they  take 
any  interest  in  the  personal  question  at  all  ?  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  retrace  the  oft-trodden  ground  which  Chettle  and 
his  contemporaries  occupy.  These  matters  have  been 
sufficiently  discussed  by  Mr.  Appleton  Morgan  ("  Shake- 
speare Myth  "),  Nathaniel  Holmes  ("  The  Authorship  of 
Shakespeare"),  and  above  all  by  Mr.  Donnelly  in  the 
admirable  exposition  of  the  entire  subject  which  forms  the 
first  volume  of  his,  in  other  respects  most  unsatisfactory, 
book,  "The  Great  Cryptogram."     But  there  is  one  refer- 


14  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

ence  on  which  a  few  words  may  be  given,  because  I  can- 
not help  thinking  it  has  been  completely  misunderstood. 
All  readers  of  Shakespeare's  biography  are  familiar  with 
the  allusion  to  Shakespeare  supposed  to  be  contained  in 
Robert  Greene's  pamphlet,  —  "A  Groatsworth  of  Wit  pur- 
chased with  a  Million  of  Repentance,"  The  writer  seems  to 
be  very  angry  with  some  one  who  has  by  false  pretences 
secured  a  prize  which  legitimate  dramatic  authors  and 
playwrights,  belonging  officially  to  the  author's  craft,  have 
been  unable  to  secure.  The  successful  man  is  "  an  upstart 
crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  that  with  his  Tiger's 
heart  wrapt  in  a  player's  hyde  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to 
bombast  out  a  blanke  verse  as  the  best  of  you,  and  being 
an  absolute  Johannes  Factotum  is,  in  his  owne  conceit,  the 
only  Shake-Scene  in  a  countrie."  This  was  published  in 
1596, — but  entered  at  Stationer's  Hall  in  September  1592, 
and  probably  published  for  the  first  time  in  that  year. 
Now  whatever  interpretation  we  may  give  to  these  cryptic 
words,  I  do  not  think  we  can  gather  from  them  that  the 
"upstart  crow "  was  an  author,  but  only  an  actor,  who 
pretended  to  be  an  author  also.  For  being  only  a  handy 
man  at  the  theatre  he  is  not  one  of  the  writers'  class,  and 
has  no  right  to  profess  himself  an  author.  He  is  wearing 
feathers  which  do  not  rightfully  belong  to  him,  and  pre- 
tending to  be  what  he  really  was  not.  He  is  not  a 
dramatist,  but  onh'  a  spouter.  All  this  is  consistent  with 
the  idea  that  Shakspere,  if  he  is  intended,  was  not  the 
writer  of  the  plays  which  were  attributed  to  him,  and  thus 
the  question  not  only  remains  open,  it  is  actually  started, 
and  a  clear  place  is  left  for  the  Baconian  or  any  other 
hypothesis.  But  is  the  allusion  to  Shakspere  at  all  ?  I 
very  much  doubt  it.  In  1592  "Shakespeare"  did  not  exist 
in  literature  at  all,  and  only  two  or  three  of  the  plays 
which  subsequently  appeared  under  this  name  could  have 
been  written.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  any  sore- 
ness could  have  been  occasioned  in  Greene's  mind  by 
William  Shakspere's  success  at  that  time,  such  as  it  was, 
•  either  as  an  author  or  an  actor. 


POETRY,    NOT    HISTORY.  15 

And  I  do  not  find  in  the  word  Shake-scene  any  necessary 
reference  to  Shakspere.  Thie  word  probably  only  points 
sarcastically  to  some  pompous  and  ostentatious  player 
who  treads  heavily  on  the  boards,  shaking  the  stage  with 
his  footsteps  and  the  house  with  his  thunder.  This  same 
self-asseiting  personage  is  admirably  described  by  the 
poet : — 

And  with  ridiculous  and  awkward  action, 

Which, — slanderer  ! — he  imitation  calls. 

He  pageants  us.     Sometime,  great  Agamemnon, 

Th}'  topless  deputation  he  puts  on, 

And,  like  a  strutting  player  whose  conceit 

Lies  in  his  hamstring,  and  doth  think  it  rich 

To  hear  the  wooden  dialogue  and  sound 

'Twixt  his  stretched  footing  and  the  scaffoldage, — 

Such  to-be-pitied  and  o'er  wrested  seeming 

He  acts  thy  greatness  in  :  and  when  he  speaks 

'Tis  like  a  chime  a-mending  ;  with  terms  unsquared, 

Which  from  the  tongue  of  roaring  Typhon  dropped, 

Would  seem  hyperboles  : — At  this  fusty  stuff  Achilles 

Laughs  out  a  loud  applause. 

(Tro.  Cr.  i.  iii.  149), 

Unfortunately  very  few  persons  read  Greene's  tract  in 
extenso  ;  the  allusion  extracts  are  all  they  know.  If,  how- 
ever, any  reader  will  trouble  himself  to  read  the  whole, 
with  fresh  and  unpreoccupied  mind,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
he  will  very  seriously  doubt  whether  it  is  an  outcome  of 
Greene's  personal  history  in  any  sense.  It  reads  like  a 
sort  of  poetical  romance,  fanciful  and  absolutely 
unhistoric.  Any  one  might  pass  over  this  allusion  passage, 
as  it  occurs  in  the  book,  without  detecting  anything  auto- 
biographic. It  might  even  have  been  written  by  the  Shakes- 
pearean poet  himself  to  draw  attention  to  his  then 
unknown  and  unnoticed  plays.  The  use  ordinarily  made 
of  it  is,  to  say  the  least,  one  of  very  doubtful  validity,  and 
if  any  allusion  is  secreted  in  it,  the  interpretation  is  quite 
natural  which  supposes  that  the  real  author  is  concealed, 
and  that  some  unscrupulous  player  profits  by  the  oppor- 


l6  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

tunitv  of  anonymous  authorship,  and  takes  the  credit  to 
himself. 

3. — Probabilities. 

If  WiUiam  Shakspere  was  the  monarch  of  Parnassus, 
the  greatest  philosophic  poet  and  dramatist  the  world  has 
ever  seen,  some  traces  of  this  pre-eminence  might  be 
expected  to  survive  in  history.  He  did  not  live  in  pre- 
historic times,  nor  in  the  midst  of  social  anarchy  and 
revolution  in  which  the  marks  of  individual  greatness 
might  be  extinguished.  His  contemporaries  are  fairly 
well  known,  and  he  could  not  have  been  less  noticed  than 
Ben  Jonson,  or  Raleigh.  Such  a  mighty  man  might  be 
expected  to  leave  behind  him  some  such  traces  as  the 
following  : — 

1.  Some  direct  documentary  evidence  of  authorship- 
some  manuscript,  or  letters,  something  which  an  auto- 
graph hunter  would  eagerly  take  possession  of  and 
carefully  preserve. 

2.  Some  genuine  personal  allusions,  not  relating  to  or 
arising  out  of  his  poetry,  but  proper  to  himself, — some 
tradition  of  weighty  conversation,  or  wise  letters, — some 
literar}'  scraps  dropped  in  conversation  or  correspondence. 

3.  Some  traces  of  other  literary  work,  or  serious  occupa- 
tion, besides  the  poems. 

4.  Some  traces  of  a  great  and  imposing  personality,  who 
would  honour  any  society  by  his  presence, — some  record 
of  his  ability  to  leave  a  personal  impression  on  his  con- 
temporaries answering  to  and  commensurate  with  the 
literary  impression  which  he  has  left  upon  the  world, 

5.  Some  evidence  that  he  was  attracted  by  those  things 
which  interest  cultivated  men,  —  books,  libraries,  in- 
tellectual society,  correspondence  with  men  of  kindred 
tastes  and  accomplishments, — something  to  connect  him 
with  the  science,  or  studies  of  the  time. 

6.  Some  relics  of  his  library, — books  which  he  valued  or 


LACUNA.  17 

presented  to  his  friends,  which  they  would  preserve  as 
heir-looms  and  memorials  of  the  greatest  man  they  ever 
knew.  The  only  book  that  has  ever  been  supposed  to 
belong  to  him  is  a  copy  of  Florio's  "Montaigne,"  now  in 
the  British  Museum.  But  unfortunately  the  signature  in 
this  book  is  supposed  by  capable  judges  to  have  been 
forged. 

7.  Some  traditions  pointing  to  his  connexion  with 
public  life,  with  which  his  writings  shew  him  to  have 
been  remarkably  familiar, — some  account  of  his  studies 
in  ancient  and  modern  history  and  classic  literature, — 
some  proofs  of  foreign  travel,  especially  in  Italy  and 
France,  —  something  to  account  for  his  exceptional 
acquaintance  with  courts,  kings  and  upper-class  society 
— something  to  explain  his  distaste  for  the  lower  and 
middle  classes  and  his  patrician  scorn  for  the  common 
people. 

8.  Some  indications  that  he  valued  learning  for  its  own 
sake  and  was  ready  to  diffuse  it,  by  giving  his  own 
children  a  good  education,  and  by  promoting  intellectual 
pursuits  in  Stratford  when  he  retired  from  business  and 
took  up  his  residence  there,  a  wealthy  and  unoccupied 
man. 

I  say  some  such  lights  as  these  might  be  expected  to 
pierce  through  the  gloom  tl#at  surrounds  the  man.  I  do 
not  claim  that  all  these  characteristic  marks  of  greatness 
should  be  visible,  but  some  of  them  should, — and  we  are 
entitled  to  ask  why  it  is  that  none  of  these  questions  are 
ever  raised  in  the  critical  accounts  of  Shakspere.  We  have 
plenty  of  details  of  what  he  must  have  been,  and  conse- 
quently purely  fanciful  pictures  of  what  he  was,  for  which 
not  a  shred  of  historic  basis  can  be  found. 

In  further  pursuit  of  this  line  of  enquiry  we  may  notice 

two  or  three  characteristics  which  the  true    Shakespeare 

certainly  possessed,  and  which  William  Shakspere  almost 

as  certainly  did  not  possess. 

0 


l8        shakespeare  studies  in  baconian  light. 

4. — The  Lawyer. 

Several  books  have  been  written  in  illustration  of 
Shakespeare's  legal  accomplishments,  the  most  celebrated 
though  not  the  best,  being  that  by  Lord  Campbell.  This 
knowledge, — all  the  lawyers  admit, — was  not  the  babble 
of  an  amateur,  coached  up  for  special  occasions.  He  does 
not  sport  his  little  legal  lore  like  a  smatterer,  loading  par- 
ticular plays  or  scenes  with  it,  and  then  dropping  it  till  the 
next  law  business  is  required — it  is  always  ready — it  is  not 
reserved  for  dramatic  situations  involving  legal  points,  but 
it  turns  up  unexpectedly,  for  allusion,  or  decoration  or 
simple  expression  of  a  vivid  and  pointed  character.  When 
it  is  the  ruling  idea  it  is  presented  with  a  daring  affluence 
and  freedom  which  no  amateur  could  venture  to  attempt. 
I  do  not  think  any  one  but  a  trained  lawyer  could  have 
written  Sonnet  87.  Only  a  lawyer  can  expound  its 
technicalities  or  say  what  branch  of  legal  science  is  em- 
ployed, or  what  statutory  principles  are  intended.  And 
yet  it  is  intelligible  to  the  most  unprofessional  reader. 
The  law  learning  is  so  profound  and  yet  so  well  digested, 
that  it  blends  with  all  other  learning  and  can  be  used  in 
illustration  of  anything.     Here  it  is  : — 

Farewell  !     Thou  art  too  dear  for  my  possessing, 

And  like  enough  thou  know'st  thy  estimate  : 

The  charter  of  thy  worth  gives  thee  releasing ; 

My  bonds  in  thee  are  all  determinate. 

For  how  do  I  hold  thee  but  by  thy  granting  ? 

And  for  lliat  riches  where  is  my  deserving  ? 

The  cause  of  this  fair  gift  in  me  is  wanting, 

And  so  my  patent  back  again  is  swerving. 

Thyself  thou  gav'st,  thy  own  worth  then  not  knowing, 

Or  me,  to  whom  thou  gav'st  it,  else  mistaking  ; 

So  thy  great  gift,  upon  misprison  growing, 

Comes  home  again  on  better  judgment  making. 

Thus  have  I  held  thee,  as  a  dream  dotli  Hatter, 

In  sleep  a  king,  but  waking  no  such  matter. 

Sonnet  46,   is  almost   as   legal,    and   could  (or   would) 
scarcely  have  been  written  by  an  amateur. 


THE    LEGAL    EXPERT.  I9 

All  the  law  critics  admit  that  such  language  as  this  is 
not  the  writing  of  an  amateur  but  of  an  expert,  and  this  is 
Lord  Campbell's  conclusion.  "There  is  nothing  so 
dangerous,"  says  Lord  Campbell,  "as  for  one  not  of  the 
craft  to  tamper  with  our  freemasonry,"  and  he  gives  illus- 
trations of  the  blunders  made  by  educated  men  trying  to 
talk  law-shop  when  they  have  not  the  necessary  training 
or  experience.  The  outsider  is  sure,  sooner  or  later  to  be 
found  out.  He  will  traverse  what  he  approves, — or  empanel 
a  witness  instead  of  a  jury, — or  in  some  way  his  legal 
chatter  will  degenerate  into  jargon.  But  Shakespeare 
never  stumbles — he  is  never  caught  tripping, — the  most 
erudite  lawyer  can  find  nothing  in  his  language  that  he  can 
take  exception  to.  Consequently,  Lord  Campbell  comes 
to  the  positive  conclusion  that  he  must  have  spent  some 
time  in  the  study  or  practice  of  law.  "If  the  only  possible 
way  for  William  Shakspere  to  have  gained  his  legal 
knowledge  was  his  employment  as  an  attorney's  clerk  at 
Stratford-on-Avon,  well  then,  Attorney's  clerk  he  certainly 
was,- -it  must  be  taken  as  proved."  Lord  Campbell  how- 
ever, adds  that  there  is  not  a  particle  of  proof  that  he  ever 
was  so  employed,  and  that  such  proof  would  almost 
certainly  exist  in  the  form  of  signatures,  attestations  or 
documents  in  his  handwriting.  Perhaps  if  Lord  Campbell 
had  written  after  instead  of  before  the  Baconian  con- 
troversy arose,  he  would  have  hesitated  before  making 
such  very  compromising  statements,  which  do,  indeed, 
contain  or  imply  all  the  premises  of  a  syllogistic  argument 
to  prove  that  the  man,  William  Shakspere,  was  not  the 
author  of  this  law-talk  at  all. 

Lawyers  say  that  one  of  the  most  difficult  things  to 
acquire  in  their  profession  is  the  phraseology.  Law 
students  are  repelled  by  its  uncouth  and  strange  pecu- 
liarities, —  its  cumbrous  and  pedantic  formality,  its  stiff 
grotesque  forms,  its  apparent  redundancy  and  circumlo- 
cution. They  not  only  cannot  accustom  themselves 
to   it,    they   cannot  endure   it,    they  often    hate   it,  —  its 


20  SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

language  refuses  to  settle  on  their  tongue.  It  takes 
years  of  study  and  practice  to  overcome  this  repug- 
nance. For  a  man  to  make  this  uncouth  diction  his 
own,  —  to  use  it  playfully,  allusively,  metaphorically, 
poetically, — to  wear  it  as  a  well-fitting  garment  to  which 
his  own  limbs  and  movements  have  become  adjusted,  is 
the  rarest  possible  achievement,  and  even  for  a  good 
lawyer  may  be  impossible.  Yet  this  is  what  we  find  in 
Shakespeare,  He  "talks  shop"  so  well  that  we  forget  that 
it  is  shop  ;  it  gathers  grace,  dignity,  flexibility  and  beauty 
as  he  incorporates  it  with  the  magic  and  the  mystery  and 
the  opulence  of  his  own  incomparable  style. 

If  William  Shakspere  was  a  lawyer  surely  he  would 
have  drafted  his  own  will,  and  put  into  it  some  traces  of 
his  own  personality.  But  there  is  no  indication  of  this. 
The  individuality  of  the  testator  never  peeps  through  the 
impersonal  and  featureless  style  ot  the  local  scrivener, — 
who,  apparently,  expected  the  testator  to  sign  his  name  by 
a  mark, — by  his  seal,  not  his  hand, — as  if  the  draftsman 
knew,  what  many  experts  in  caligraphy  suppose,  that  he 
could  not  write. 

It  must  be  observed,  that  the  proof  that  the  writer  was  a 
lawyer  has  a  different  rank  from  the  proofs  that  he  was  a 
doctor,  a  divine,  a  navigator,  &c.  The  masonic  sign  is 
recognised  by  the  initiated.  Mr.  Furnivall,  a  barrister 
himself,  says,  "That  he  was  [an  attorney's  clerk]  at  one 
time  of  his  life  I,  as  a  lawyer,  have  no  doubt.  Shakspere's 
knowledge  of  insanity  was  not  got  in  a  doctor's  shop  ; 
though  his  law  was,  I  believe,  in  a  lawyer's  office."  It  is 
only  non-professional  critics  who  suppose  that  this  legal 
experience  might  have  been  picked  up  by  hanging  about 
the  courts,  or  by  his  own  experience  in  litigation.  And 
this  explanation  is  as  difficult  as  Lord  Campbell's  unsolved 
enigma. 

5. — The  Aristocrat. 

The  writer  of  Shakspere  had  the  culture  and  tastes  of  a 
statesman  and  an  aristocrat.     Hartley  Coleridge  said  he 


A    TORY    AND    A    GENTLEMAN.  21 

was  "A  Tory  and  a  gentleman."  The  plays  with  one 
exception,  viz.,  the  Merry  Wives,  do  not  deal  with  middle 
class  life  at  all.  Men  and  women  of  all  classes  of  life  are 
introduced,  but  the  leading  characters,  the  scenes,  situa- 
tion, events,  interests  and  actions,  belong  to  the  life  of 
princes,  nobles,  statesmen,  men  of  the  upper  classes.  If 
the  life  is  rural,  it  is  not  that  of  peasants — the  court  moves 
into  the  country,  and  the  point  of  view  is  that  of  an 
aristocrat  looking  on  at  peasant  life  (as  in  As  Yovi,  Like  It), 
not  of  a  provincial  townsman  or  peasant  reporting  his  own 
experiences.  The  virtuous  peasant  is  represented  by  two 
servants,  Adam  in  As  You  Like  It,  and  Flavins,  the  steward 
of  Timon — and  these  are  humble  retainers  of  aristocratic 
masters,  rustic  parasites  sucking  virtue  out  of  an  aristocratic 
organism.  Thus  the  exceptions  not  only  prove  the  rule, 
they  emphasize  and  accentuate  it. 

Not  only  so,  we  can  see  peeping  from  beneath  the 
dramatic  mask,  a  fine  patrician  contempt  for  the  common 
people.  Without  any  too  adventurous  interlinear  read- 
ings, one  can  see  that  the  writer's  sympathies  are  not  with 
Jack  Cade,  nor  even  with  Joan  of  Arc,  nor  with  the 
popular  tribunes,  or  the  mob  or  crowd  of  common  people 
in  the  historic  and  classic  plays,  but  rather  with — Lord 
Say,  Julius  Caesar  and  Coriolanus.  The  phrase  from 
Horace,  Belhta  multorum  cs  capituni,  is  very  frequently 
reflected  in  the  plays. 

The  blunt  monster  with  uncounted  heads 
The  still-discordant,  wavering  multitude. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  Indue,  i8) 

and  the  wavering  instability  of  the  people  is  never  forgotten. 

Was  ever  feather  so  lightly  blown  to  and  fro  as  this  multitude  ? 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.,  viii.  57.) 

Bacon  says  of  the  people  that  "they  ever  love  to  run 
from  one  extreme  to  another."  ("  Life,"  L,  loo.)  This 
mobility  is  excellently  pictured  in  the  scene  from  2  He7t. 
VI.     When   Cade   addresses   them,  all  exclaim,    "We'll 


22  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

follow  Cade,  we'll  follow  Cade."  Clifford  addresses  then-> 
immediately  afterwards,  and  they  exclaim,  "A  Clifford! 
A  Clifford  !  we'll  follow  the  King  and  Clifford." 

Shakespeare  speaks  of  "  the  fool  multitude  "  {Mcr.  Ven. 
II.  ix.  26),  anticipating  Carlyle's  famous  jibe,  "mostly 
fools." 

Bacon's  language  is  much  the  same  : — "  Your  Lordships 
see  what  monstrous  opinions  these  are,  and  how  both 
these  beasts,  the  beast  with  seven  heads,  and  the  beast 
with  many  heads, — pope  and  people, — are  at  once  let  in." 
{Talbot,  Charge.  "Life,"  V.  10.) 

"  A  thing  acceptable  to  the  people,  who  ever  love  to  run 
from  one  extreme  to  another."     ("  Life,"  I.  100.) 

"Multitudes,  which  can  never  keep  within  the  compass 
of  any  moderation."     (Pacif.  of  Ch.  III.  107.) 

Bacon  also  speaks  of  the  people  as  fools  :  and  no  fiercer 
invective  against  the  "vulgar  heart"  of  the  multitude, — 
the  "beastly  feeder"  that  disgorges  to-day  what  it 
swallowed  greedily  yesterday, — was  ever  penned,  than  that 
which  Shakespeare  puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  Archbishop 
of  York.     (See  2  Hen.  IV.  I.,  iii.,  87—108.) 

"The  master  of  superstition  is  the  people;  and  in  all 
superstitions  wise  men  follow  fools."  (Essay  of  "Super- 
stition.") 

"  There  is  a  superstition  in  avoiding  superstition,  when 
men  think  to  do  best  if  they  go  farthest  from  the  super- 
stition formerly  received.  Therefore  care  would  be  had 
that, — as  it  fareth  in  ill  purgings, — the  good  be  not  taken 
away  with  the  bad,  which  commonly  is  done  when  the 
people  is  the  reformer."     (lb.) 

"Praise  .  .  .  if  it  be  from  the  common  people,  is 
commonly  false  and  naught,  and  rather  followeth  vain 
persons  than  virtuous  :  for  the  common  people  understand 
not  many  excellent  virtues."     (Essay  of  "  Praise.") 

"Common  people  have  praise  for  the  lowest  virtues, 
admiration  for  the  middle,  but  for  the  highest,  no  sense  at 
all."     (Antitheta  on  "Praise,") 


NO  COUNTRY  LIFE  IN  SHAKESPEARE.         23 

Professor  Dowden  admits  that  Shakespeare  "had 
within  him  some  of  the  elements  of  English  Conservatism." 
And  it  has  been  a  matter  of  reproach  that  he  has  so  little 
sympathy  with  those  of  his  own  class,  whose  good  repute 
ought  to  have  been  precious  to  him.  Mrs.  Pott,  in  her 
pamphlet,  "Did  Francis  Bacon  write  Shakespeare?" 
remarks  on  the  very  notable  absence  of  events,  scenes  and 
interests  belonging  to  rural  life.  There  is  no  village  green 
with  rustic  dances,  no  may-pole,  no  country  inn,  no  fair, 
no  market,  no  har^'est  home,  no  haymaking,  no  Christmas 
games,  none  of  the  small  pleasures  and  allurements  of 
county  or  country-town  life.  There  is  no  brewing,  cider 
making,  fruit  gathering,  hop  picking,  reaping,  gleaning, 
threshing,  no  farm  house,  no  scene  in  a  country  gentle- 
man's house.  If  Falstaff  visits  Justice  Shallow  and 
interviews  the  rustics,  it  is  for  political  purposes,  for 
conscription  ;  and  the  excuses  of  the  unhappy  peasants  to 
obtain  exemption  from  military  service  are  matters  for 
ridicule  and  laughter.  If  rustic  service  or  occupations  are 
introduced  it  is  by  allusion — as  in  Troilus  and  Crcssida, 
the  processes  of  baking  are  referred  to, — they  are  never 
matters  of  primary  interest.  The  plays  are  exactly  what 
might  be  expected  from  a  courtier  and  a  scholar,  with  a 
liberal  education  and  familiarity  with  the  upper  ten 
thousand.  If  a  rustic  wrote  them,  his  emancipation  from 
rustic  ideas  is  one  miracle,  and  his  knowledge  of  upper 
class  life  another. 

It  need  scarcely  be  remarked  that  such  absolute  want  of 
sympathy  with  the  common  people  could  not  possibly  have 
been  expressed  by  a  man  of  low,  if  not  peasant  rank,  who 
all  his  life  belonged  to  a  class  which  was  treated  as  com- 
posed of  vagabonds  and  outcasts.  For  William  Shake- 
speare to  have  thus  written  would  stamp  him  as  an  ill 
bird,  fouhng  his  own  nest,— a  true  son  of  Ham  exposing 
his  own  father's  nakedness. 


24        shakespeare  studies  in  baconian  light. 

3, — The  Classical  Scholar. 

The  writer  was  a  classical  scholar.  Critics  say  that  the 
classic  learning  was  derived  from  translations  or  general 
reading.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  this  can  be  with 
reference  to  classic  authors  who  were  then  untranslated. 
And  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  understand  how  such  a 
profound  knowledge  of  classic  history  and  mythology  as 
is  shewn,  not  only  in  the  classic  plays,  but  in  those  which 
did  not  require  such  embellishment,  can  have  been 
acquired  without  going  to  the  original  sources.  Drake  or 
Captain  Cook  did  not  learn  navigation  by  towing  a  ferry 
or  such  small  "translation"  as  this  :  Captain  Webb  did 
not  learn  to  swim  the  Channel  by  paddling  in  a  brook  : 
and  it  is  equally  improbable  that  Shakespeare  could  sail 
so  easily  in  these  large  oceans  of  classic  lore  without 
scholarly  preparation. 

As  this,  however,  will  be  separately  discussed  I  need  not 
enlarge  upon  it  here. 

4. — Various   Accomplishments. 

The  writer  was  apparently  well  versed  in  French  ;  he 
writes  very  good  conversational  French.  He  very  often 
uses  French  words  either  as  such,  or  Anglicised.  The 
following  are  specimens  of  his  French :  some  of  the 
words  which  are  now  fully  naturalized  were  in  his  time 
more  or  less  strangers: — Accoutrement,  advertise  (avertir), 
aidant,  aigre  (or  eager  for  the  same  French  word), 
allegiant,  amort,  appellants,  bawcock  (beaucoq),  benison, 
bruit,  blazon,  buttons  (for  boutons),  cap-a-pe,  coigne, 
debonnair,  deracinate,  egal,  esperance,  foison,  guerdon 
(or  re-guerdon),  legerity,  matin,  mot,  moiety,  montant, 
oelhards,  orguellous,  orisons,  parle,  point-device,  puissance, 
puissant,  rendezvous,  rigol,  rivage,  sans,  semblable.  Also 
such  phrases  as,  to  utterance  (a  outrance)  in  happy  time 
(a  la  bonne  heure). 

Shakespeare  puts  a  good  deal  of  French  into  Henry  V., 


Shakespeare's  travels.  25 

and  with  reference  to  one  quotation  which  he  makes  from 
the  New  Testament — viz.,  "  Le  chien  est  retourne  a  son 
propre  vomissement  et  la  truie  lavee  au  bourbier  " 
{Henry  V.  III.  vii.  68)— Mr,  Hudson  thus  comments : — 
"It  has  been  remarked  that  Shakespeare  was  habitually 
conversant  with  his  Bible;  we  have  here  a  strong  pre- 
sumptive proof  that  he  read  it,  at  least  occasionally,  in 
French.  This  passage  will  be  found,  almost  literally,  in 
the  Geneva  Bible  of  1588.     (2  Pet.  ii.  22)." 

Indications  of  familiarity  with  Spanish  and  Italian  are 
not  wanting,  but  are  less  decisive. 

The  writer  had  most  probably  travelled  in  France 
and  Italy,  as  we  know  Bacon  did  in  his  early  youth. 
Professor  Elze  goes  far  to  prove  that  Shakespeare  had 
visited  Mantua,  and  seen  the  tomb  of  Julio  Romano. 
There  is  a  reference  to  this  artist  in  the  Winter's  Tale,  as  a 
sculptor,  not  agreeing  with  what  was  then  currently  known 
about  him,  for  he  is  generally  spoken  of  as  a  painter. 
But  the  description  given  of  him  exactly  and  minutely 
corresponds  to  that  given  in  his  epitaph-  at  Mantua;  and 
Professor  Hales  thinks  that  by  this  observation  Professor 
Elze  has  "certainly  increased  the  probability  of  Italian 
travels,"  which  other  critics  have  supposed,  especially 
from  the  topographical  and  other  knowledge,  accurate  and 
detailed,  shown  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  the  Comedy  of 
Errors,  and  Othello. 

The  supposition  that  all  these  accomplishments  can 
have  been  possessed  by  William  Shakspere  seems  to  me 
audacious  or  desperate  in  the  extremest  degree.  Critics, 
however,  can  venture  on  extravagant  speculations  to  fill 
up  the  lacunas  in  their  biographies  of  the  author  of 
"Shakespeare,"  which  in  any  other  setting  would  be  at 
once  scouted  as  impossible.  One  of  the  boldest  and  most 
amusing  of  these  speculations  is  contained  in  Mr.  Neild's 
Edition  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  In  this  play,  and  in  Hamlet, 
the  editor  finds  unmistakable  traces  of  the  influence  of 
Giordano  Bruno;  and  as  there  is  some  evidence  that  the 


26  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

[talian  Philosopher  was  a  guest  of  Sir  Fulke  Greville  at 
Warwick  Castle  some  time  in  the  years  1583 — 1585,  Mr. 
Xeild  finds  in  that  visit  the  explanation  of  the  Bruno 
traces  in  these  plays.  "  What  if  the  philosophic  poet  [i.e., 
Greville]  felt  an  early  sympathy  with  the  young  singer  of 
Avon,  and  brought  the  most  wonderful  Italian  thinker  of 
the  age  into  living  connection  with  the  most  pregnant  of 
the  wits  of  England,  by  an  invitation  to  Warwick  Castle 
given  to  William  Shakespere  while  Bruno  was  there  as  a 
guest,  for  Greville  was  the  possessor  of  Warwick  Castle, 
and  Member  of  Parliament  for  Warwickshire  along  with 
Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  and  was  a  very  frequent  visitor  at 
Stratford-on-Avon."  This  seems  to  me  one  of  the  boldest 
anachronisms  in  literature.  Who  could  possibly  know 
anything  about  William  Shakspere's  "pregnant  wit"  in 
1583  or  1585  ?  If  Greville  had  ever  heard  of  him  from  Sir 
T.  Lucy,  he  probably  knew  of  him  as  a  wild  youth  who 
had  stolen  his  deer,  and  was  deservedly  punished  for  his 
riotous  gambols.  The  fact  that  such  cobweb  theories  as 
this  must  be  constructed  if  any  intelligible  account  of 
William  Shakespere  as  the  supreme  poet  can  be  given, 
supplies  the  strongest  prima  facie  evidence  against  his 
supposed  authorship. 

I  need  not  refer  to  other  accomplishments  in  science  and 
Biblical  learning  which  were  possessed  by  Shakespeare.  I 
will  only  remark  that  even  if  part  of  this  learning  might  be 
somehow  picked  up  by  an  unlettered  peasant,  yet  the 
entire  sum  of  it,  the  full-orbed  completeness  with  which 
he  had  mastered  all  the  learning  of  his  time,  and  "  taken 
all  knowledge  into  his  province,"  cannot  easily  be  con- 
nected with  what  we  know  of  William  Shakspere.  This 
cannot  be  assumed,  it  must  be  proved,  and  it  is  quite 
certain  that  the  materials  for  such  proof  do  not  exist. 

5. — Shakspere  Biography. 

Let  it  be  noted  that  nearly  all  the  current  biographies  of 
Shakspere  are  filled  with  surmises,   speculations,  guesses 


CONJECTURAL    BIOGRAPHY.  27 

and  more  or  less  baseless  assertions.  The  one  work  of 
this  class  in  which  these  features  are  absent  is  Halliwell 
Phillipps's  "Outlines,"  and  as  this  most  excellent  work 
contains  only  well-established  facts,  resting  on  historic  and 
documentary  evidence,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  find  in  it 
the  author  of  Lear  or  Hamlet.  We  find  only  William 
Shaxpur  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  accordingly  Baconians 
may  claim  this  book  as  one  of  the  strongest  outside 
buttresses  of  the  Baconian  theor}'.  The  speculations  to 
which  I  refer  are,  of  course,  such  as  are  required  by  the 
unchallenged  assumption  that  W^illiam  Shakspere  really 
wrote  the  poems  attributed  to  Shakespeare.  As  soon  as 
this  is  disputed,  the  biographies  are  starved  of  their  best 
material,  and  become,  as  Bacon  says,  "poor  shrunken 
things,  full  of  melancholy  and  indisposition,  and  un- 
pleasing  to  themselves  "  (Essay  of  "Truth  ").  It  is  quite  a 
pleasant  little  comedy  to  watch  the  variety  and  multitude 
of  these  guessing  phrases,  the  costume  and  property  of  the 
dramatic  fictions  called  "  Life  of  Shakspere."  I  may  be 
allowed  here  to  reproduce  some  remarks  bearing  on  this 
subject  from  the  "  Bacon  Journal,"  II.  go,  in  a  review  of 
Mrs.  Stopes'  book  on  "The  Bacon-Shakespeare  Question:  " 
— "Mrs.  Stopes'  eloquent  and  original  account  of  William 
Shakspere's  life  does  great  credit  to  her  powers  of 
imagination  and  invention.  It  is  a  pleasant  little  fable,  the 
construction  of  which  must  have  been  attended  with  much 
poetic  rapture.  The  whole  of  this  charming  piece  of  fiction 
is  freely  sprinkled  over  with  the  guessing  formulae  which 
are  so  amply  used  by  these  romancists,  such  as  :  '  would 
doubtless  ' — '  must  have  learned  ' — '  no  doubt  he  often  ' — 
'  perhaps  he  would  ' — *  my  own  opinion  is  ' — '  he  certainl}^ 
felt' — 'it  is  more  than  likely' — '  they  would  see' — 'just 
think  how' — *I  think' — 'probably  he  became.'  These 
phrases,  some  of  them  repeated  more  than  once,  crowd 
the  pages.  This  is  all  very  amusing,  but  as  for  the  history 
or  logic  of  the  case  they  are  conspicuously  absent.  The 
muse  of  History  returns  to  the  nursery,  where  she  dresses 
up  a  doll  and  puts  on  grandmamma's  spectacles." 


28  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Exactly  the  same  account  may  be  fj^lven  of  the  learned 
but  in  some  respects  unsatisfactory  book  which  Mr.  Sidney 
Lee  facetiously  calls  "The  Life  of  Shakespere." 

Mr.  George  Stronach  in  a  review  of  Mr.  Sidney  Lee's 
book  ("  Baconiana,"  April,  i8gg)  produces  between  eighty 
and  ninety  such  phrases  as  Mrs.  Stopes  uses  so  freely, 
picked  out  at  haphazard  from  this  remarkable  biography. 
It  really  is  not  a  life  of  Shakspere  at  all,  but  a  very  learned 
and  valuable  catalogue  raisonnec  of  certain  literary  creations 
passing  under  Shakespeare's  name,  with  incidental  and 
quite  unnecessary  references  to  one  Mr.  Shakspere.  All 
that  is  said  about  William  Shakspere  might  be  left  out, 
and  the  value  of  the  work  rather  increased  than  diminished. 
Here  also  little  Clio  re-enters  the  nursery  aiid  tries  to  talk 
like  her  mother,  Mnemosyne,  whose  spectacles  she  has 
stolen;  but  instead  of  Memory  of  Facts,  we  have  Invention 
of  Fancies.  Mr.  Lee's  usual  formula  for  uncertain  state- 
ments is  ^'  doicbiless,"  which  may,  of  course,  mean  as  much 
doubt  and  as  little  certainty  as  anyone  chooses  to  admit. 
Sometimes  sheer  inventions  are  stated  without  the  use  of 
any  conjecturing  phrase,  with  as  much  and  as  positive  an 
assurance  as  if  they  were  capable  of  historic  verification. 
For  instance,  Mr.  S.  Lee  published  in  the  Comhill  Maga- 
zine for  April,  1899,  a  paper  on  the  Shakespeare  Folio 
of  1623,  which  may  be  taken  as  a  rider  to  his  book.  In 
this  paper  he  says  :  "The  copy  for  the  press,  the  manu- 
scripts of  the  pla5^s,  the  publishers  obtained  from  the 
managers  of  the  acting  corhpany  with  whom  Shakspere 
was  long  connected  as  both  author  and  actor."  What 
historic  or  even  moral  justification  Mr.  S.  Lee  can  find 
for  this  manner  of  writing  history  I  must  leave  to  his  own 
personal  responsibilit}',  for  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conjecture. 
The  only  possible  authority  for  this  statement  is  contained 
in  the  Cryptic  Address  to  the  reader,  and  the  Dedication 
to  Pembroke  and  Montgomery,  prefixed  to  the  1623  Folio. 
The  Dedication  simply  says,  "  We  have  but  collected 
them."      The   Address   says   they    "have   collected    and 


FICTION    yOT  FOUNDED    ON    FACT.  29 

published  them  .  .  .  absolute  in  their  numbers,  as  he  con- 
ceived them."  These  words  certainly  do  not  contain  any  of 
the  detail  which  Mr,  S.  Lee  thinks  proper  to  state  as  if  it 
were  well-ascertained  fact.  There  is  nothing  to  enable  us 
to  determine  whether  the  "  collecting  "  was  made  by 
hunting  in  the  theatres,  or  turning  over  the  poet's  own 
papers  and  searching  his  pigeon-holes.  Now,  inasmuch  as 
the  whole  of  the  introductory  matter  prefixed  to  the  1623 
Folio  is  matter  for  keen  debate,  since  the  Cambridge 
editors  and  others  find  so  much  suggestio  falsi  as  to 
deprive  all  its  unproved  assertions  of  any  authority,  as  no 
one  knows  whether  the  professed  editors  (who  were,  of 
course,  genuine  persons)  were  men  of  straw,  or  responsible 
editors;  and  as  the  whole  prefatory  matter,  including  Ben 
Jonson's  poem,  may  be  as  much  a  dramatic  performance 
or  "Induction"  as  that  prefixed  to  the  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  Mr.  S.  Lee's  detailed  statement,  explaining  the 
sources  of  the  Folio,  may  be  considered  as  somewhat 
hazardous.  And  Shakspere  biography,  if  it  is  to  be  com- 
plete, if  its  distressing  lacunse  are  to  be  filled  up  or  bridged 
over,  so  as  to  bring  it  into  relation  with  the  Renaissance 
Drama,  must  be  buttressed  and  supplemented  by  such 
guesses  and  fictions  as  Mr.  S.  Lee  and  the  rest  of  them 
substitute  for  facts.  Under  these  circumstances  it  might 
be  supposed  that  the  poet's  biography  must  be  recon- 
structed, perhaps  even  transferred  to  another  personality. 
Assuredly  this  hypothesis  is  not  unreasonable. 

I  have  said  that  the  most  trustworthy  life  of  William 
Shakspere  is  that  by  Halliwell  Phillipps.  x^nd  what  sort 
of  personality  does  he  produce  ?  We  see  a  rustic  peasant, 
a  country  townsman,  born  and  bred  in  a  "bookless  neigh- 
bourhood," among  utterly  uneducated  people.  The  youth 
is  not  destitute  of  some  qualities  that  make  for  advance- 
ment in  life.  If  no  good,  yet  not  much  harm  is  known  of 
him,  if  the  circumstances  connected  with  his  over  hasty 
and  early  marriage  are  neglected.  After  a  somewhat 
stormy  youth  he  forsakes  his  native  town,  when  a  very 


30  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

young  man,  in  order  to  push  his  fortunes  in  London.  He 
succeeds  beyond  his  expectations,  becomes  rich  on  the 
gains  of  theatrical  management,  and  after  some  years 
returns  to  the  town  where  his  family  had  continued  to 
reside,  and  spends  the  rest  of  his  days  in  commercial  and 
money-lending  transactions,  which,  if  fairly  respectable, 
were  not  very  noble,  never  sparing  any  defaulting 
creditor,  but  pursuing  him  with  the  utmost  rigour  of  the 
law.  His  speculations  seem  to  have  been  generally 
fortunate,  he  becomes  a  land-owner  and  lives  in  a  fine 
house  which  he  has  purchased.  And  this  is  all  !  Not  a 
trace  of  such  occupations  as  those  in  w^hich  the  author  of 
Shakespeare  might  be  supposed  to  be  most  interested,  no 
mention  of  books  or  studies,  or  any  literary  property,  not 
even  in  his  will;  not  a  scrap  of  his  writing  preserved  except 
five  or  six  shockingly  written  signatures,  variously  spelt, 
nothing  to  show  literary  education,  or  acquired  learnin>T 
or  literary  performance.  As  to  the  works  which  we  now 
call  Shakespeare  they  are  leagues  away  from  the  subject  of 
Mr.  Halliwell  Phillipps'  biography,  and  not  a  single 
significant  or  really  valuable  commentary  on  any  one 
passage  in  them  is  to  be  derived  from  anything  we 
positively  know  concerning  the  man  to  whom  they  are 
traditionally  attributed. 

The  paradox  and  anomaly  of  all  this  is  so  infinite  that 
even  highly  orthodox  Shakespeareans  are  obliged  some- 
times to  admit  as  much,  and,  as  to  the  detachment  of  the 
Shakespeare  drama  from  all  that  relates  to  the  man,  no  one 
has  exposed  it  with  more  cynical  frankness  than  Richard 
Grant  ^^'hite,  who  bore  the  proud  title  of  "  Shakespeare's 
Scholar."  The  chapter  on  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  his  book 
"England  Within  and  Without,"  concludes  with  these 
remarkable  words  :  "Thus  ended  my  visit  to  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  where  I  advise  no  one  to  go  who  would  preserve 
any  elevated  idea  connected  with  Shakespeare's  person- 
ality. There  is  little  there  to  interest  and  much  to 
dishearten   a    'passionate   pilgrim'   to   the    scenes  of  the 


A    DESECRATED    SHEKINAH.  3I 

earlier  and  later  life  of  him  who  is  the  great  glory  of  our 
literature.  ...  As  I  drove  out  of  the  town,  on  my 
way  to  Kenilworth  ....  the  last  object  which  caught 
my  eye  was  a  large  sign  over  a  little  shop,  William 
Shakespeare,  Shoemaker.  A  fitting  close,  I  thought, 
of  my  pilgrimage.  It  would  have  annoyed  the  'gentleman 
born '  much  more  than  it  annoyed  me,  and  for  quite 
another  reason.  The  only  place  in  England  which  he  who 
is  sometimes  honoured  with  the  name  of  '  Shakespeare's 
Scholar  '  regrets  having  visited,  is  that  where  Shakespeare 
was  born  and  buried."  And  these  words  were  written  by 
the  man  who  cannot  find  terms  of  insult  too  gross  to  hurl 
at  those  who,  when  they  wish  to  visit  the  ancient  haunts  of 
the  Shakespeare  poet,  do  not  go  to  Stratford-on-Avon,  but 
to  Gorhambury  and  St.  Albans. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  add  that  the  two  book?,  which 
supply  the  most  powerful  arguments  for  the  negative 
side  of  our  case  —  the  anti-Shakspere  side — are,  Halli- 
well  Phillipps'  "Outlines,"  and  Ingleby's  "Century  of 
Praise."  Of  Dr.  Ingleby's  "Collection  of  Allusions," 
extending  over  a  hundred  years,  I  may  confidently  assert 
that  it  does  not  contain  one  single  testimony  to  authorship 
which  need  give  the  least  tremor  to  Baconians.  Not  one 
of  these  allusions  complies  with  the  conditions  defined  in 
the  second  number  of  our  list  of  Probabilities,  see  p.  ib. 
This  is,  of  course,  of  no  importance  to  Baconians  ;  it  is 
exactly  what  they  are  prepared  for.  The  real  perplexity 
is  for  Shakespeareans.  Where,  they  may  ask,  is  Mr. 
William  Shakspere,  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  this  crowded 
catalogue  of  allusions  ?  Where  is  he  ?  And  echo  answers 
—  Where? 


32 


CHAPTER     III. 
FRANCIS  BACOX. 

I.— The  Scholar  and  Man  of  the  World. 

That  Francis  Bacon  wrote  Shakespeare,  I  have  no  more 
doubt  than  that  he  wrote  the  Novum  Organmn.  Wilham 
Shaxpur  is  impossible,  and  as  he  retreats,  enter  the  noble 
and  majestic  form  of  Francis  Bacon  !  No  one  else  can  be 
seriously  suggested  as  the  author  :  if  the  Stratford  towns- 
man is  dethroned,  Bacon  immediately  steps  into  the 
vacant  place.  He  alone  is  known  to  have  had  all  the 
knowledge  shewn  in  the  poetry.  Nearly  all  that  was 
knowable  in  his  time,  he  knew.  His  mind  was  well 
stored  with  classic  lore.  It  may  sound  paradoxical,  yet 
it  is  true,  that  one  very  significant  indication  of  this  is  his 
constant  habit  of  inaccurate  quotation.  He  does  not 
seem  to  have  made  a  practice  of  looking  up  passages  in  the 
original :  he  quotes  from  memory,  and  although  he  always 
gives  either  the  true  sense  or  an  improvement  upon  it,  yet 
he  very  often  does  not  give  the  ipsissima  verba ;  and  this 
habit  of  inaccurate  quotation  is,  I  think,  the  mark  of  a 
scholar  retaining  ideas  but  not  always  reproducing  precise 
words.  One  or  two  specimens  will  suffice  ;  scores  may  be 
found  in  Reynolds'  edition  of  the  "Essays."  In  the  Essay 
of  "Adversity,"  Bacon  quotes  Seneca  in  this  form  :  "Vere 
magnum  habere  fragilitatem  hominis,  securitatem  Dei." 
The  exact  words,  as  Mr.  Reynolds  points  out,  are,  "  Ecce 
res  magna,  habere  imbccillitatem  hominis  securitatem  Dei." 
In  the  Essay  of  "Seditions  and  Troubles,"  Tacitus  is  thus 
quoted  :   "  Conflata  magna  invidia,  sen  bene,  sen  male  gesta 


bacon's  versatility.  ^^ 

Premunt."     The    words   are,    "  Inviso  semel  principe,    sen 
bene  sen  male  facta  prcmuni" 

This  verbal  inaccuracy  must  be  remembered  when  the 
small  errors  in  fact  or  allusion  of  Shakespeare  are  referred 
to  as  proof  of  deficient  scholarship  and  as  impossible  for 
Bacon.  Such  mistakes  are  not  only  no  argument  against 
the  Baconian  theory,  they  are  consistent  with  it,  and  even 
help  to  sustain  it. 

There  is  not,  I  believe,  a  single  hint  of  knowledge  con- 
tained   in   the   plays   which    may    not   be  illustrated   by 
reference  to  Bacon's  acknowledged  works.     And  the  gifts 
of  fancy,  imagination,  wit,  genius  are  his  in  rich  abundance. 
Every  page  of  his  writings  sparkles  with  gems  of  fancy. 
He  could  not  write  a  letter  on  the  dryest  subject  without 
some  gleam  of  poetic  embellishment.     His   was  a   royal 
mastery    of  language    never     surpassed,     never    perhaps 
equalled,  such  a  mastery  as  we  see  in  Shakespeare  and 
no  where  else.     He  was  the  most  accomplished  lawyer  of 
his  age,  not  excepting  even  Lord  Coke  ;  not  willingly, — 
for  he  would  have  preferred  to  devote  himself  to   other 
pursuits, — but,  as  he  was  obliged  to  live  by  his  profession, 
so,  by  slow,  gradual  advancement,  by  sheer  force  of  merit, 
he  won  his  way  to  its  very  summit,   and   acquired  that 
command  of  legal  science   and  phraseology  which  is  so 
marked  a  feature  of  the  plays.     He  was  a  courtier,  and  a 
statesman,  the  son  of  a  Lord  Chancellor,  nearly  related  to 
or  closely   intimate  with  the  most  eminent  men    in   the 
kingdom  ;  a  constant  associate  with  royal  and  aristocratic 
persons.     His  native  region  was  the  Court  of  princes  and 
the  halls  of  noble?.     He  was  skilled  in  foreign  languages, 
French,   Spanish   and  Italian ;   had  lived    in   France  and 
travelled  in  the  South  of  Europe  in  his  early  youth,  and 
knew  by  his  own  e3'esight,  and  by  his  own  marvellous  gifts 
of  perception,  the  Italian  scenes  and  skies  which  are  so 
well  described  in  the  early  plays.     Several  letters,  written 
by  Bacon  in  French,  are  published  in  Spedding's  life. 

D 


34         shakespeare  studies  in  baconian  light. 

2. — The  Poet, 

He  was  a  poet.  Nearly  all  the  critics  agree  in  this, 
however  much  they  may  otherwise  differ.  The  quick 
perception  of  analogies,  the  habit  of  reading  spiritual  laws 
in  (and  into)  historic  facts  and  natural  phenomena,  the 
irresistible  poetic  bias  which  induced  him  to  enshrine  the 
fanciful  conceits  of  his  Philosophia  Prima  into  the  very 
highest  place,  the  very  citadel  of  his  Philosophy,  all  these 
were  supremely  characteristic  of  his  mind.  He  was,  like 
Shakespeare,  primarily  a  philosopher,  a  moralist,  and  he 
uses  his  powers  of  invention,  his  imagination  and  fancy 
and  eloquence,  in  order  that  he  may  discourse  more 
effectively  on  matters  pertaining  to  the  conduct  of  life  and 
to  knowledge  and  experience  of  the  world.  And  whenever 
he  discusses  these  topics,  he  is  lavish  in  the  use  of 
poetic  imagery  and  vivid  imaginative  discourse.  In  his 
"Advancement  of  Learning,"  he  is  irresistibly  tempted  to 
wander  over  far  larger  fields  than  the  immediate  topic 
requires,  in  order  to  introduce  most  exquisite  discussions 
of  the  symbolic  meanings  which  he  finds  in  the  fables  of 
ancient  mytholog}^  He  lingers  over  all  sorts  of  social  and 
ethical  questions, — Nobility,  Beauty,  Riches,  Praise, 
Fortune  and  such  like.  We  may  v/ell  ask  why  he  should 
decorate  his  philosophy  with  plumage  of  this  kind.  In 
truth,  the  only  reason  is  that  the  philosopher  is  really  a 
poet.  He  must  sing,  for  his  native  region  is  Parnassus, 
and  the  stores  of  wisdom  and  of  beauty  which  he  finds  in 
the  sacred  mount,  flow  forth  spontaneously  whenever  he 
speaks.  Even  in  the  Novum  Orgnnnui  his  scientific 
expositions  sparkle  with  the  jewels  of  fancy  ;  the  nomen- 
clature of  his  inductive  processes  is  one  of  the  most 
astonishing  exhibitions  of  witty  invention  ever  produced. 
The  wine  of  Poetry  distilled  from  his  "Vintages"  almost 
intoxicates  the  senses,  and  often  half  spoils  his  science. 
Harvey  was  puzzled,  perhaps  with  some  mixture  of  scorn, 
at  these  scientific   discourses  of  the   "Chancellor."     He 


SHELLEY  ON  BACON  AS  POET,  35 

had  not  been  accustomed  to  such  science — it  had    never 
come  forth  from  his  shop,  none  of  his  masters  discoursed 
thus.     The  surprising  feature  of  the  case  is,  that  notwith- 
standing  the   poetry,    the   science   is   so    good.     Such   a 
blending  of  scientific  insight  and  poetic  fancy  is  without 
parallel  in  all  literature.     Goethe  is  the  nearest  approach. 
Bacon  spoke  of  himself  as  a  "concealed  poet,"  and  I 
have  seen  no  approach  to  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  this 
most   remarkable  utterance,   except  that  which   connects 
him   with   Shakespeare.      And   all   the    best    critics    and 
biographers  of  Bacon  refer  to  his  poetical  attributes.     If 
testimony  relating  to  poetic  faculty  apart  from  poetic  art  is 
to  have  any  weight,   that  of  Shelley  may  suffice.     More 
than  once  he  dwells  enthusiastically  on  the  poetic  character 
of  Bacon's  mind.      "Like   Plato" — Shelley  writes  in  his 
"  Symposium," — "he  exhibits  the  rare  union  of  close  and 
subtle  logic  with  the  Pythian  enthusiasm  of  poetry,  melted 
by  the  splendour  and   harmony  of  his  periods   into   one 
irresistible  stream  of  musical  impressions,  which  hurry  the 
persuasions    onward     as     in    a    breathless    career.      His 
language   is   that   of    an   immortal   spirit    rather   than    a 
man."     These  words,  though  applied  primarily  to  Plato, 
are  expressly  handed  on  to  Bacon.     And  in  his  "Defence 
■of  Poetry,"  Shelley  writes  : — 

"  Lord  Bacon  was  a  poet.  His  language  has  a  sweet 
and  majestic  rhythm  which  satisfies  the  sense,  no  less  than 
the  almost  superhuman  wisdom  of  his  philosophy  satisfies 
the  intellect.  It  is  a  strain  which  distends,  and  then 
bursts  the  circumference  of  the  reader's  mind,  and  pours 
itself  forth  together  with  it,  into  the  universal  element 
sympathy  "  (Defence  of  Poetry  "). 

3. — Bacon's  Concealments. 

Bacon  writes  of  himself  as  "a  concealed  poet."  One 
argument  against  his  supposed  Shakespearian  authorship 
is  derived  from  the  concealment  involved.  It  is  contended 
•that  if  Bacon  had  written  "Shakespeare"  some  indications 


36  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

of  this  would  certainly  appear  in  his  correspondence,  or  in 
that  of  his  personal  friends,  some  of  whom  must  have 
shared  the  secret  with  him.  If  Bacon  himself  wished  to 
conceal  this  fact  he  would  doubtless  do  so  very  effectually, 
and  would  pledge  his  friends  (especially  Ben  Jonson,  John 
Heminge,  and  Henry  Condell),  to  respect  his  incognito. 
The  reasons  for  this  secrecy  are  not  difficult  to  conjecture, 
and  have  been  so  fully  discussed  by  Baconian  writers 
that  I  need  not  here  dilate  upon  them.  (See  Reed's 
"Bacon  v.  Shakespeare,"  p.  124.  Donnelly's  "Great 
Crypt.,"  i.  246.) 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  for  reasons  of  his  own,  doubtless 
good  and  sufficient,  he  elected  to  be  known  by  his  con- 
temporaries and  by  immediate  posterity  as  a  philosopher 
and  reformer  of  science,  rather  than  as  a  poet,  especially  a 
dramatic  poet.  But  there  is  another  side  to  this  conceal- 
ment which  is  less  noticed.  Bacon's  private  life  has  never 
been  written,  and  the  materials  for  writing  it  do  not  exist, 
or  certainly  have  not  been  found.  His  public  life,  as  a 
statesman  and  lawyer  is  very  fully  known,  but  we  never 
catch  a  glimpse  of  him  in  his  parlour,  or  study,  or  bedroom. 
His  private  letters  have  nearly  all  disappeared,  and  such 
personal  recollections  as  his  contemporaries  penned  do  not 
supply  any  important  particulars  of  home  life  and  its. 
domestic  details.  Spedding  publishes  a  letter  written  to> 
his  niece  referring  to  her  approaching  marriage,  and  pre-^ 
fixes  the  following  remarks  : — 

"The  letter  which  follows  is  again  a  solitary  specimen. 
.  .  .  A  letter  of  advice  from  Bacon  to  his  niece  upon- 
an  offer  of  marriage  to  which  she  was  not  inclinable,  is  a 
task  which,  exhibiting  him  in  a  new  relation,  throws  some 
new  light  upon  his  character,— a  light  which  is  more 
valuable  because,  w^hile  he  has  left  the  records  of  the 
business  of  his  life  for  our  inspection  in  such  abundance 
and  with  so  little  reserve, — while  he  makes  us  welcome  to 
attend  him  to  the  Court,  the  palace,  the  Parhament,  and 
the  council-board,  to  his  gardens,  his  chambers,  and  his 
stud}',  he  seldom  or  never  admits  us  to  his  fireside.     We 


bacon's  anonymous  writings.  37 

have  a  few  letters  of  affection  to  kinsmen  or  familiar 
friends,  which  are  amongst  the  most  agreeable  of  his 
writings  ;  but  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  miscellaneous 
bundles  of  papers  of  all  sorts  left  by  his  brother  Anthony, 
and  probably  never  examined,  we  should  have  known 
nothing  at  all  of  his  more  intimate  domestic  relations. 
Here  we  get  a  glimpse  of  him  as  an  uncle  only  ;  but  in  the 
absence  of  all  records  of  that  most  intimate  relation  of  all, 
ah  account  of  which  seems  to  have  been  expected  of  me, 
but  must  still  be  expected  in  vain,  it  is  something  to  know 
how  he  acquitted  himself  in  a  correspondence  with  the 
daughter  of  his  half-brother  "  ("  Life,"  vi.  173). 

Here  is  one  specimen  of  the  way  in  which  Bacon 
''sequestered  himself  from  popularity,"  and  locked  the 
door  whenever  he  entered  into  his  closet.  And  in  other 
respects  we  can  plainly  see  Bacon's  fondness  for  self- 
concealment.  There  are  several  letters,  published  in 
Spedding's  "Life,"  which,  though  written  by  Bacon,  were 
appropriated,  with  his  concurrence,  by  others.  In  Vol.  L, 
page  97,  is  a  long  and  important  letter  signed  by  Sir 
Francis  Walsingham,  which  is  undoubtedly  Bacon's.  The 
very  characteristic  letters  to  the  Earl  of  Rutland  on  his 
travels,  were  sent  to  the  Earl  by  Lord  Essex  as  his  own 
compositions,  and  are  included  in  Devereux's  Memoirs  of 
the  Earl  of  Essex.  The  editor  was  hardly  prepared  to  find 
such  compositions  among  the  Essex  MSS.,  and  finds  in 
them  proofs  of  a  greater  literary  gift  than  he  supposed 
Essex  to  possess.  No  one  familiar  wiih  Bacon's  writings 
can  have  the  least  hesitation  in  assenting  to  Mr.  Spedding's 
conclusion  that  they  are  his.  There  are  also  letters 
written  for  the  Earl  to  Anthony  Bacon,  and  another  for 
Anthony's  reply,  intended  to  be  used  in  order  to  restore 
Essex  to  the  favour  of  the  Queen.  Of  these  letters  Dr. 
Abbott  says: — "The  wonderful  exactness  with  which  he 
has  caught  the  somewhat  quaint,  humorous,  cumbersome 
style  of  Anthony,  and  the  abrupt,  incisive  antithetical  and 
passionately  rhetorical  style  of  Essex,  makes  the  perusal 

197609 


38  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

of  these  letters  a  literary  treat,  independent  of  their  other 
merits."  Here  also  we  find  the  dramatic  faculty  revealing 
itself.  This  hide-and-seek  propensity  is  not  without 
significance  when  the  question  of  Bacon's  relation  to 
Shakespeare  is  under  consideration. 

4. — Bacon's  Literary  Output. 

Among  the  many  shallow  objections  brought  against 
the  Baconian  theory,  one  is  founded  on  the  assumption 
that  Bacon  was  a  voluminous  writer,  and  that  if  we  add  to 
his  avowed  literary  productions  the  Shakespearean  Drama, 
he  is  loaded  with  such  a  stupendous  literary  progeny  as  no 
author  could  possibly  generate.  Moreover,  he  was  so  busy 
in  state  business  as  a  lawyer,  judge,  counsellor,  member  of 
Parliament,  confidential  adviser  to  the  King  and  the 
responsible  rulers  in  State  and  Church,  that  he  had  very 
little  spare  time  for  authorship. 

As  to  Bacon's  occupations  in  law  and  politics,  they  were 
very  scanty  up  to  the  year  1607,  when  he  was  46  years  of 
age  and  was  made  Solicitor-General.  His  complaint  was 
that  he  lacked  employment.  When  he  was  35  years  old, 
he  writes  to  his  uncle.  Lord  Burghley,  "  My  life  hath  been 
so  private  as  I  have  had  no  means  to  do  your  Lordship's 
service."  And  as  to  his  employment  by  the  Queen  he 
says,  "Her  service  was  a  kind  of  freehold."  And  he  ex- 
pressly said  that  his  own  private  studies  occupied  him 
more  than  his  public  engagements.  That  these  solitary 
pursuits  were  very  absorbing  we  know  from  many  indica- 
tions of  the  seclusion  which  he  practised,  which  distressed 
his  mother,  and  sometimes  vexed  those  who  sought  access 
to  him.  Now  it  was  during  this  time, — up  to  his  45th 
year, — when  he  had  scarcely  any  public  work  and  was 
labouring  unremittingly  in  his  study,  that  nearly  all  the 
Shakespeare  plays  appeared,  His  most  important  philo- 
sophical works  began  to  appear  in  1605,  when  the 
"Advancement"  was  published.  The  Novum  Organon 
was  not  published  till  1620.     There   were  various  small 


NOT   A   VOLUMINOUS    AUTHOR.  39 

and  fragmentary  anticipations  of  the  Novum  Organon 
which  appeared  in  1605,  1606,  1607,  1608,  1612  and  1616 ; 
and  the  "Essays"  and  " De  Sapientia  Vetenmi"  and  some 
smaller  works  appeared  before  1609. 

But  there  is  absolutely  nothing  that  accounts  for  his 
private  studies  and  literary  pursuits  during  the  first  forty 
years  of  his  life.  When  we  proceed  to  make  an  estimate 
of  the  entire  literary  output  of  Bacon,  as  a  scientific  and 
philosophical  writer,  the  amount  is  really  somewhat  small. 
His  Life  and  Works,  edited  by  Spedding  and  Ellis,  occupy 
14  8vo.  volumes.  But  the  prefaces,  notes,  editorial  com- 
ments, translations  from  the  Latin,  and  biographical 
narrative  occupy  more  than  half  of  the  seven  volumes  of 
Biography.  And  a  large  space  in  all  the  fourteen  volumes 
is  devoted  to  business  letters,  speeches.  State  papers, 
evidences  of  witnesses  or  culprits  in  State  trials,  and  such 
like  documents,  besides  memoranda  relating  to  private 
matters  of  no  literary  significance  whatever,  so  that  out  of 
the  1,480  pages  which  are  put  down  to  Bacon's  credit  m 
the  seven  volumes  devoted  to  the  Life,  only  about  375 
pages  can  be  ranked  as  literature,  and  these  seven  volumes 
themselves  contain  3,000  pages.  If  we  calculate  the 
whole  amount  contained  in  the  fourteen  volum.es  we  shall 
find  it  may  be  reckoned  at  about  six  such  volumes,  each 
containing  520  pages.  And  this  includes  the  legal  writ- 
ings and  speeches.  Bacon  was  66  years  old  when  he  died. 
Such  genius  as  his  ripens  early.  When  he  was  20  he  was 
a  ripe  scholar,  and  capable  of  literary  production.  And  all 
we  can  find  for  his  whole  life  amounts  to  about  70  pages 
per  annum,  less  than  6  pages  a  month.  Also,  if  the  Shake- 
speare poetry  was  the  only  work  of  William  Shakspere, 
certainly  he  was  not  a  voluminous  writer.  Thirty-one 
years  may  be  taken  as  a  moderate  estimate  of  the  duration 
of  his  literary  life,  i.e.,  from  1585  till  his  death  in  1616. 
And  the  result  is,  ^y  plays  and  the  minor  poems, — not  two 
plays  for  each  year.  It  is  clear — as  a  matter  of  numerical 
calculation,  —  that  if  the  whole  of  Shakespeare   and   the 


40  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

whole  of  Bacon's  acknowledged  works  belong  to  the  same 
author,  the  writer  was  not  a  voluminous  author  —  not  by 
any  means  so  voluminous  as  Miss  Braddon  or  Sir  Walter 
Scott. 

Therefore,    let  this  objection  stand  aside ;    it  vanishes 
into  invisibility  as  soon  as  it  is  accurately  tested. 

5. — Bacon's  Assurance  of  Immortality. 

Bacon's  confident  assurance  of  holding  a  lasting  place  in 
literature  is  one  of  the  most  striking  features  of  his 
character,  and  it  marks  him  as  specially  endowed  with  the 
poetic  consciousness  and  temperament.  In  this  respect 
Bacon  and  Shakespeare  are  absolutely  alike,  and  the  bold 
unhesitating  assertion  of  this  claim  to  immortality,  which 
is  common  to  the  two,  is  almost  unparalleled  in  literature. 
For,  of  all  poets  that  ever  lived,  not  one  ever  made  more 
confident  appeals  to  posterity,  never  did  any  poet  more 
triumphantly  discount  the  immortality  of  which  he  was 
absolutely  assured.  If  we  only  take  the  couplets  of  the 
Sonnets,  this  assurance  of  lasting  renown  is  more  or  less 
clearly  expressed  in  nearly  a  score  of  them — in  Sonnets 
15,  17,  18,  19,  54.  55,  60,  63,  65,  74,  81,  100,  loi,  104,  107, 
123.  And  in  many  of  the  Sonnets  the  vision  of  future 
fame  is  the  leading  idea  of  the  entire  poem,  as  in  55,  63, 
65,  74,  81,  100,  and  loi. 

This  very  marked  characteristic  of  the  Sonnets  is  one  of 
the  reasons  for  attributing  to  many  of  them  a  dramatic 
character.  The  poet  who  was  so  proudly  conscious  of 
future  fame  could  not,  in  his  own  person,  have  written  71 
and  72  ;  the  bold  claimant  to  lasting  renown  could  not 
have  said  on  his  own  account : — 

For  I  am  shamed  by  that  which  I  bring  forth, 
And  so  should  you,  to  love  things  nothing  worth. 

(Sonnet  72). 

This  mood,  does  not  last  long,  for  when  we  pass  on  to 
the   next    Sonnet   the    dramatic    entourage    has    changed. 


AMAZING   SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS.  4I 

Bacon  is  speaking  for  himself,  and  the  very  premature 
consciousness  of  old  age  which  led  him,  when  compara- 
tively a  young  man,  to  write,  "  I  wax  now  somewhat 
ancient ;  one-and-thirty  years  is  a  great  deal  of  sand  in 
the  hour-glass,"  expresses  its  sense  of  antiquity  in  the 
dejected  minor  strain, — 

That  time  of  year  thou  mayst  in  me  behold 
When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 

Upon  those  boughs  which  shake  against  the  cold, 
Bare,  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang. 

(Sonnet  73). 

But  the  strong  grasp  on  futurity  remains — we  soon  hear 
the  note  of  triumph  mingling  with  the  sense  of  physical 
decay  ;  his  "  Line "  will  live  after  his  body  has  passed 
away:  Let  that  which  is  to  be  "the  prey  of  worms" 
or  the  "  coward  conquest  of  a  wretch's  knife "  —  be 
forgotten  ; — 

The  worth  of  that  is  that  which  it  contains 
And  that  is  this,  and  this  with  thee  remains. 

(Sonnet  74). 

This  anticipation  of  immortality  is  one  of  the  most 
characteristic  marks  of  the  poetic  temperament,  and  the 
same  bold  appropriation  of  future  fame  is  remarkably 
characteristic  of  Bacon.  That  proud  appeal  to  posterity 
which  pervades  the  Sonnets  (it  could  not  have  found 
equally  clear  expression  in  the  dramas  or  the  other 
poems)  finds  equally  articulate  voice  in  Bacon's  will, 
and  in  the  frequent  professions  which  he  makes  that  his 
writings  are  intended  to  secure  "merit  and  memory"  in 
succeeding  ages,  even  if  he  and  they  are  neglected  or 
misunderstood  by  his  contemporaries.  There  is  a  magnifi- 
cent audacity  in  some  of  these  declarations  which  is  only 
paralleled  by  the  equally  daring  prophesies  of  these  poems. 
Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  them  all  is  one  that  has 
not  hitherto  been  specially  noticed.  In  Bacon's  Dedi- 
cation of  his  "  Advancement  of  Learning  "  to  the  King,  he 


42  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

refers  to  the  fortune  and  accomplishments  of  that  variously 
gifted  monarch  as  uniting  "the  power  and  fortune  of  a 
King,  the  knowledge  and  illumination  of  a  Priest  and  the 
learning  and  universality  of  a  Philosopher ;  "  and  then  he 
refers  to  his  own  work  in  these  most  astonishing  terms : 
"This  propriety  {i.e.,  property  or  characteristic),  inherent, 
and  individual  attribute  in  your  Majesty,  deserveth  to  be 
expressed,  not  only  in  the  fame  and  admiration  of  the 
present  time,  nor  in  the  history  and  tradition  of  the  ages 
succeeding,     but    also     in     some     solid     work,     fixed 

MEMORIAL,  AND  IMMORTAL  MONUMENT,  BEARING  A 
CHARACTER  OR  SIGNATURE  BOTH  OF  THE  POWER  OF  A 
KING,  AND  THE  DIFFERENCE  AND  PERFECTION  OF  SUCH 
A  KING.  THEREFORE  I  DID  CONCLUDE  WITH  MYSELF 
THAT  I  COULD  NOT  MAKE  UNTO  YOUR  MAJESTY  A  BETTER 
OBLATION  THAN  OF  SOME  TREATISE  TENDING  TO  THAT 
END." 

A  more  majestic  and  poetic  anticipation  of  immortality 
never  issued  from  human  pen.  The  magnificent  egotism 
is  here  sublime ;  in  almost  every  other  case  it  would  be 
ridiculous.  It  could  only  have  come  from  the  same  pen 
which,  a  few  years  before,  had  written  : 

You  still  shall  live  (such  virtue  hath  my  pen) 

Where  breath  most  breathes,  even  in  the  mouths  of  men. 

(Sonnet  8i.) 
Or,- 

Thou  in  this  shalt  find  thy  monument, 

When  tyrants'  crests  and  tombs  of  brass  are  spent. 

{lb.  107.) 

Not  often  in  straightforward  prose  do  we  meet  with  the 
Horatian  vaunt  : 

Exegi  monumentum  rere  perennius 
Regalique  situ  pyramidum  altius  ; 
Quod  non  imber  edax,  non  Aquilo  impotens 
Possit  diruere,  aut  innumerabilis 
Annorum  series  et  f uga  temporum. 


ANTICIPATIONS    OF    IMMORTALITY,  43 

But  Bacon  is  equal  to  this  immense  self-consciousness, 
which,  in  an  inferior  writer,  would  be  insufferable  audacit}-. 
There  is  nothing  inconsistent  with  what  we  know  of  his 
own  self-estimation  in  supposing  that  he,  and  he  alone  in 
that  age,  was  capable  of  this  proud  utterance  : 

Not  marble,  nor  the  gilded  ornaments 

Of  princes,  shall  outlive  this  powerful  rhyme  ; 

But  you  shall  shine  more  bright  in  these  contents 

Than  unswept  stone,  besmeared  with  sluttish  time. 

When  wasteful  wars  shall  statues  overturn. 

And  broils  root  out  the  work  of  masonry. 

Not  Mars  his  sword  nor  war's  quick  fire  shall  lourn 

The  living  record  of  your  memory. 

'Gainst  death  and  all  oblivious  enmity 

Shall  you  pace  forth  ;  your  praise  shall  still  find  room 

Even  in  the  e3-es  of  all  posterity, 

That  wear  the  world  out  to  the  ending  doom.' — (55.) 

The  immortality  which  Bacon  anticipated  for  himself 
has  certainly  been  achieved,  and  when  his  real  relation  to 
the  Shakespeare  drama  is  accepted  by  the  world,  as  it 
assuredly  will  be,  all  that  he  claimed  and  prophesied  will 
be  admitted.  The  tremendous  tragedy  of  his  fall  still 
blocks  his  way  to  the  supremest  throne  of  Parnassus. 
Detraction  and  calumny  still  blacken  his  reputation.  The 
worst  construction  is  put  upon  his  faults,  and  his  many 
virtues  and  excellencies  are  forgotten  or  explained  awa}'. 
It  will  not  be  always  so. 

6. — Personal  Characteristics. 

I  will  venture  to  point  out  some  passages  in  Shake- 
speare which  appear  to  me  to  reflect  some  of  the  personal 
characteristics  of  Bacon.  The  accuracy  and  significance 
of  the  resemblance  will  not  at  once  commend  itself  to 
every  one,  and  I  do  not  attach  any  great  importance  to 
them.     Let  them  be  taken  for  what  they  are  worth. 

(i)  One  very  curious  habit  of  Bacon's  seems  to  have 
been  to  strike  himself  on  the  breast  when  he  wished  to  put 


44  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

emphasis  or  solemnity  into  his  utterance.  In  a  speech  in 
Padiament  in  1601,  referring  to  the  Queen's  prerogative 
"to  set  at  liberty  things  restrained  by  statute-law,  or 
otherwise,"  he  is  reported  to  have  said,  "  For  the  first  she 
may  grant  non-obsiantcs  contrary  to  the  penal  laws,  which 
truly  in  my  conscience  {and  so  struck  himself  on  the  breast) 
are  as  hateful  to  the  subject  as  monopolies,  ("Life," 
III.  27.) 

Brutus  is  represented  as  using  a  similar  gesture  when  he 
roused  the  Romans  to  revenge  the  death  of  Lucretia. 

This  said,  he  struck  his  hand  upon  liis  breast, 
And  kiss'd  the  fatal  knife,  to  end  his  vow. 

{Liicnxc,  1842.) 

Ophelia  in  her  madness, 

Hems  and  beats  her  heart. 

{Ham.  IV.  V.  5.) 

Clarence's  little  boy  asks  the  Duchess  of  York, 

Why  do  you  wring  your  hands,  and  beat  your  breast 
And  cry,  "  O,  Clarence,  my  unhappy  son  ? " 

{Rich.  III.  II.  ii.  3.) 

And  Claudio  represents  Beatrice  behaving  in  the  same 
way, 

Then  down  upon  her  knees  she  falls,  weeps,  sobs,  beats  her  heart, 
tears  her  hair,  prays,  curses. 

{Much  Ado,  II.  iii.  152.) 

In  the  Return  from  Parnassus,  which  is  I  believe  one  of 
the  Shakespearean  group,  Studioso,  describing  the  condi- 
tions of  his  hired  service,  says  that  one  of  his  obligations 
was:  "That  I  shoulde  work  all  harvest  time.  And  upon 
this  pointe  the  old  churle  gave  a  signe  with  a  '  hemm  !  ' 
to  the  old  householde  of  silence,  and  began  a  solem, 
sencless  oration  against  Idlenes,  noddinge  his  head,  knock- 
inge  his  hande  on  his  fatt  breste"  (2  Parn.,  655).  And  in 
another  passage  Amoretto  laments  that  he  "cannot  walke 
the  streete  for  these  needy  fellowes,  and  that  after  there  is 


BACON  S    SLIPPERY    STANDING.  45 

a  Statute  come  out  against  begging."     And  then  follows 
the  stage  direction,  ''He  strikes  his  breast''  (3  Parn.,  1684). 

(2)  There  are  many  passages  in  Shakespeare  which 
carry  the  sombre  colouring  which  darkened  his  life  after 
his  fall.  This  may  be  traced  in  the  portrait  of  Cardinal 
Wolsey  in  Henry  VHI.  It  is  the  pervading  quality  of  the 
play  of  Timon,  one  of  those  plays  never  heard  of  till  its 
publication  in  1623.  The  sudden  reverse  of  fortune  from 
the  greatest  magnificence  and  opulence  to  the  most  sordid 
destitution,  is  exactly  what  Bacon  experienced  ;  for  after 
his  fall  his  condition  of  penury  was  like  that  of  a  suppliant 
for  alms  ;  "  date  obolum  Belisario,"  he  writes,  "  I  that  have 
borne  a  bag  can  bear  a  wallet.''  The  lavish  generosity  of 
Timon,  and  his  almost  inexcusable  carelessness  about 
money  in  the  time  of  his  prosperity,  reflects  a  weakness, 
almost  amounting  to  a  fault,  strikingly  characteristic  of 
Bacon. 

Bacon's  lament  over  his  fall,  and  the  sense  of  danger 
which  always  accompanies  greatness  (a  sentiment  fre- 
quently expressed  at  different  periods  of  his  life)  is 
abundantly  reflected  in  Shakespeare.  In  1612,  when  the 
Essay  of  "Great  Place"  was  published.  Bacon  wrote: 
"  The  rising  unto  place  is  laborious,  and  by  pains  men 
come  to  greater  pains;  and  it  is  sometimes  base,  and  by 
indignities  men  come  to  dignities.  The  standing  is 
slippery,  and  the  regress  is  either  a  downfall  or  at  least 
an  eclipse,  which  is  a  melancholy  thing."  In  1603  Bacon 
described  the  appointment  of  Essex  to  the  command  of 
the  army  in  Ireland  as  locus  lubricus  (see  the  "Essex 
Apology");  the  word  is  used  by  Tacitus,  Cicero,  and 
other  Latin  authors  in  this  sense,  and  this  insecure  or 
"slippery"  standing,  with  the  subsequent  "downfall  or 
eclipse  "  is  often  noticed  in  Shakespeare. 

A  sceptre  snatch'd  with  an  unruly  hand 
Must  be  as  boisterously  maintain'd  as  gain'd; 
And  he  that  stands  upon  a  slippery  place 
Makes  nice  of  no  vile  hold  to  stay  him  up. 

[■fohn  III.  iv.  135). 


46  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

They  that  stand  high  have  many  blasts  to  shake  them, 
And,  if  they  fall,  they  dash  themselves  to  pieces. 

(Rich.  III.  I.  iii.  259). 

O  world,  thy  slippery  turns  !  " 

{Cor.  IV.  iv.  12). 

What  !  am  I  poor  of  late  ? 

'Tis  certain,  greatness,  once  fall'n  out  with  fortune, 

Must  fall  out  with  men  too  :  what  the  declined  is 

He  shall  as  soon  read  in  the  eyes  of  others 

As  feel  in  his  own  fall;  for  men,  like  butterflies. 

Show  not  their  mealy  wings  but  to  the  summer; 

And  not  a  man,  for  being  simply  man, 

Hath  any  honour,  but  honour  for  those  honours 

That  are  without  him,  as  place,  riches,  favour. 

Prizes  of  accident  as  oft  as  merit  : 

Which,  when  they  fall,  as  being  slippery  standers, 

The  love  that  lean'd  on  them  as  slippery  too, 

Do  one  pluck  down  another,  and  together. 

Die  in  the  fall. 

{Tro.  Crcs.  III.  iii.  74). 

Farewell,  my  lord;  I  as  your  lover  speak. 

The  fool  slides  o'er  the  ice  that  you  should  break. 

(7;..  214). 

The  art  o'  the  court 

As  liard  to  leave  as  keep;  whose  top  to  climb 

Is  certain  falling,  or  so  slippery  that 

The  fear's  as  bad  as  falling  .  ,  .  which  dies  i'  the  search 

And  hath  as  oft  a  slanderous  epitaph 

As  record  of  fair  act;  nay,  many  times. 

Doth  ill  deserve  by  doing  well;  what's  worse, 

Must  court'sy  at  the  censure  :  O  boys,  lliis  story 

The  world  may  read  in  inc.     .     .     .     My  report  ivas  once 

First  ivitli  the  best  of  note,  &c. 

[Cyinb.  III.  iii.  46 — 70). 

When  Fortune,  in  her  shift  and  change  of  mood, 
Spurns  down  her  late  beloved,  all  his  dependants, 
W^hich  labour'd  after  him  to  the  mountain's  top. 
Even  on  their  knees  and  hands,  let  him  slip  down, 
Not  one  accompanying  his  declining  foot. 

{Tiinon  I.  i.  84). 

And  the  figure  of  an  eclipse  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  most 


BACON    UNDER   ECLIPSE.  47 

usual  metaphors  for  loss  of  reputation  or  position.     Here 
is  a  small  collection  of  such  metaphors. 

No  more  be  grieved  at  that  which  thou  hast  done; 

Roses  have  thorns  and  silver  fountains  mud; 
Clouds  and  ecHpses  stain  both  moon  and  sun, 

And  loathsome  canker  lives  in  sweetest  bud. 

(Sonnet  35). 

Nativity,  once  in  the  main  of  light, 

Crawls  to  maturity,  wherewith  being  crown'd, 

Crooked  eclipses  'gainst  his  glory  fight, 

And  Time  that  gave  doth  now  his  gift  confound. 

(Sonnet  60). 

Alack  !  our  terrene  moon  is  now  eclipsed. 

Ant.  CI.  III.  xiii.  153. 

The  mortal  moon  hath  her  eclipse  endured. 

(Sonnet  107). 

(Referring  evidently  to  Queen  Elizabeth). 

(3)  Bacon's  self-vindication  is  apparently  secreted  in 
many  passages  in  Shakespeare.  In  a  letter  to  Buckingham, 
written  in  the  Tower,  May  31st,  1621,  Bacon  writes: 
"  When  I  am  dead,  he  is  gone  that  was  always  in  one 
tenor,  a  true  and  perfect  servant  to  his  master,  and  one 
that  was  never  author  of  an}^  immoderate,  no,  nor  unsafe, 
no  (I  will  sa}^  it),  nor  unfortunate  counsel,  and  one  that 
no  temptation  could  ever  make  other  than  a  trusty,  and 
honest,  and  thrice-loving  friend  to  your  lordship."  This 
is  not  unlike  Ariel's  self-commendation  to  Prospero. 

Remember,  I  have  done  thee  worthy  service, 
Told  thee  no  lies,  made  thee  no  mistakings. 
Without  or  grudge  or  grumbling. 

{Tempest  I.  ii.  247). 

One  of  the  most  striking  of  these  vindicatory  passages  is 
that  spoken  by  Lord  Say  in  2  Henry  VI.  And  it  should 
be  noted  that  these  lines  did  not  exist  in  the  early  draft  of 
this  play — the  Contention.  They  were  not  given  to  the 
world  till  1623.     Even  up  to  i6ig  the  play  was  republished 


48  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

without   these    most  significant   additions.      Lord  Say   is 
pleading  for  his  Hfe  to  Jack  Cade  and  his  murderous  crew. 

Hear  me  but  speak,  and  bear  me  where  you  will. 

Justice  with  favour  have  I  always  done; 

Prayers  and  tears  have  moved  me,  gifts  could  never. 

(Observe,  he  does  not  say  that  he  never  received  gifts, — 
he  admits  that  he  had, — but  only  that  his  administration 
of  justice  was  never  perverted  or  changed  by  them,  that 
they  had  not  influenced  him.) 

When  have  I  aught  exacted  at  your  hands, 
But  to  maintain  the  king,  the  realm,  and  you  ? 
Large  gifts  have  I  bestowed  on  learned  clerks, 
Because  my  book  preferr'd  me  to  the  king, 
And  seeing  ignorance  is  the  curse  of  God, 
Knowledge  the  wing  wherewith  we  fly  to  heaven. 

These  cheeks  are  pale  for  watching  for  3'our  good. 
Long  silling  to  determine  poor  men's  causes 
Hath  made  me  full  of  sickness  and  diseases. 

Tell  me  wherein  have  I  offended  most  ? 
Have  I  affected  wealth,  or  honour  ?     Speak  ! 
Are  my  chests  fill'd  up  with  extorted  gold  ? 
Is  my  apparel  sumptuous  to  behold  ? 
Whom  have  I  injured  that  ye  seek  my  death  ? 

(2  Henry  VI.  IV.  vii.  63 — no). 

(4).  One  of  the  most  significant  characteristics  recorded 
of  Bacon  is  his  dramatic  faculty.  Mallet  says  of  him, 
"In  his  conversation  he  would  assume  the  most  differing 
characters  and  speak  the  language  proper  to  each  with 
a  facility  that  was  perfectly  natural,  for  the  dexterity  of 
the  habit  concealed  every  appearance  of  art."  Osborn 
speaks  in  still  more  striking  terms  :  "I  have  heard  him 
entertain  a  country  lord  in  the  proper  terms  relating  to 
hawks  and  dogs,  and  at  another  time  out-cant  a  London 
chirurgeon."     Now,   is    it    not  a   little  remarkable  that  a 


THE  POET  A  NATURAL  ORATOR.  49 

precisely  similar  gift  is  attributed  to  Prince  Hal :  "  I  am 
so  good  a  proficient  in  one  quarter  of  an  hour,  that  I 
can  drink  with  any  tinker  in  his  own  language  during 
my  life."  (i  Henry  IV.  II.  iv.  19).  In  another  respect 
the  Prince  corresponds  to  the  character  of  Bacon  given 
by  his  friends.  His  eloquence  is  described  as  so  facile 
and  charming  that  "the  ears  of  his  hearers  received  more 
gratification  than  trouble,  and  (they  were)  no  less  sorry 
when  he  did  conclude  than  displeased  with  any  that  did 
interrupt  him."  (Osborn).  Ben  Jonson,  in  slightly 
different  words,  says  the  same  thing  : — "  The  fear  of  every 
man  who  heard  him  was  lest  he  should  make  an  end." 
So  the  Prince  is  described  : 

"  When  he  speaks, 
The  air,  a  charter'd  libertine,  is  still, 
And  the  mute  wonder  lurketh  in  men's  ears, 
To  steal  his  sweet  and  honeyed  sentences." 

(Henry  V.  I.  i.  47.; 

The  poet,  whoever  he  was,  in  his  portraiture  of  the 
Prince  must  have  drawn  either  upon  his  own  observations, 
or  on  his  own  experience  of  the  dramatic  and  rhetoric 
faculty,  and  its  manifestations  in  private  and  public  dis- 
course ;  and  even  if  he  was  not  conscious  of  self- 
portraiture,  yet  if  he  was  naturally  an  actor  or  an  orator 
the  instance  most  opportune  for  his  use  was  himself; 
and  doubtless  fragments  of  self-portraiture  must  exist  in 
many  of  the  characters  which  he  has  so  graphically 
drawn.  The  passages,  however,  just  quoted  are  so 
mmutely  individual  that  they  were  undoubtedly  more 
applicable  to  Bacon  than  to  any  other  man  then  living. 

(5).  There  is  another  very  curious  reflection  of  Bacon's 
character  and  temperament  in  the  poem  of  Lucrcce. 
Lucretia  condemns  herself  to  death  for  an  offence  which 
has  been  forced  upon  her,  for  which  she  is  not  morally 
guilty,  yet  which,  through  the  stress  of  circumstances, 
she  has  committed.  She  does  not,  however,  seek  to 
justify,    though    she    does    to    palliate,  her    crime.     Like 

E 


50  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Bacon,  she  renounces  all  defence,  and  submits  to  the 
judgment  of  the  court  which  condemns  her,  which  in  her 
case  is  no  other  than  herself.  She  knew,  however,  that 
she  was  personally  innocent,  though  involved  in  the 
"unrecalling  crime"  of  another  person.  Like  Bacon, 
while  pleading  guilty,  she  can  interrogate  her  unstained 
conscience — 

What  is  the  quaUty  of  mine  offence, 

Being  constrain'd  with  dreadful  circumstance  ? 

May  my  pure  mind  witli  the  foul  act  dispense, 

My  low-declined  honour  to  advance  ? 

May  any  terms  acquit  me  from  this  chance  ? 

The  poison'd  fountain  clears  itself  again  ; 

And  why  not  I  from  this  compelled  stain  ? — 1702. 

Even  so  Bacon,  for  some  time  after  his  condemnation, 
expected  to  resume  his  ordinary  functions  as  counsellor 
to  Parliament  and  adviser  to  the  King  after  he  had  been 
cleared  from  his  "compelled  stain." 

In  Bacon's  fall  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of 
his  case  is  the  way  in  which  he  renounced  all  self-defence 
and  accepted  the  judgment  pronounced  against  him. 
"Your  lordship,"  he  writes  to  Buckingham,  "spake  of 
purgatory.  I  am  now  in  it,  but  my  mind  is  in  a  calm, 
for  my  fortune  is  not  my  felicity.  I  know  I  have  clean 
hands  and  a  clean  heart,  and,  I  hope,  a  clean  house  for 
friends  and  servants."  And  yet  he  will  not  ask  for 
acquittal  on  these  grounds.  He  asks  the  Lords  for  a  fair 
trial,  and  for  some  convenient  time  "to  advise  with  my 
counsel,  and  to  make  my  answer ;  wherein  nevertheless, 
my  counsel's  part  will  be  the  least  ;  for  I  shall  not,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  trick  up  an  innocency  with  cavillations,  but 
plainly   and    ingenuously    (as    your    lordships   know  my 

manner  is)  declare  what  I  know  and  remember 

desiring  no  privilege  of  greatness  for  subterfuge  of  guilti- 
ness." And  to  the  King  he  writes:  "I  shall  deal 
ingenuously  with  your  Majesty,  without  seeking  fig-leaves 
or  subterfuges."     Afterwards,  to  the  Lords  :   "  I  do  under- 


STRANGELY    GUILTY    INNOCENCE.  51 

stand  there  hath  been  heretofore  expected  from  me  some 
justification  ;  and  therefore  I  have  chosen  one  only  justifi- 
cation, instead  of  all  other,  one    of   the  justifications    of 
Job  ;  for,  after  the  clear  submission  and  confession  which 
I  shall  now  make  unto  your  lordships,  I  hope  I  may  say 
and  justify  with  Job  in  these  words  :   '  I  have  not  hid  my 
sin  as  did  Adam,  nor  concealed  my  faults  in  my  bosom.' 
This  is  the  only  justification  which  I  will  use.     It  resteth, 
therefore,  that,  without  fig-leaves,  I  do  ingenuously  con- 
fess    and     acknowledge     that,     having     understood     the 
particulars  of  the  charge,  not  formally  from  the  House, 
but  enough  to  inform  my  conscience  and  memory,   I  find 
matter  sufficient  and  full  both  to  move  me  to  desert  the 
defence,    and    to    move    your   lordships  to  condemn   and 
censure    me."      This  was    surely    a    most     extraordinary 
course  for  a  man  to  take  who  knew  that  his  hands  and 
conscience  were  clean,  and  superficial   critics    have  been 
often    too   ready  to    take    him  at  his  own  word,  without 
any    careful    enquiry    into   what    his  words  really  imply, 
or  how  they  are  connected  with    and    interpreted  by  his 
personal    character    and    habits.     One    reason    indeed  for 
his    submission    may    be    that  he  knew  his  case  was  not 
being  tried  in  a  court  of  justice  ;  the  verdict  and  sentence 
would  be  put  to  the  vote  and  determined  by  a  show  of 
hands,  and  by  the  decision  of  a  majority,  most  of  whom 
were    absolutely    ignorant    of  judicial  procedure,  and  in- 
capable of  judicial  deliberation,  but  were  swayed  by  the 
most  vivid  or  recent  impressions    that  party,  or  passion, 
or  plausible  rhetoric   might    suggest.      It    might  then  be 
politic  to  abandon  anything  like  a  scientific  judicial  plea, 
and  trust  to  the  leniency  which  absolute  surrender  might 
inspire.     However  this  may  be,  such  was  the  attitude  he 
assumed.       Conscious    (as    he    expressly    said)    of   moral 
innocence,  he   yet    called    for  condemnation  and  censure 
upon  himself.     Lucretia  acted  in  precisely  the  same  way. 
She  is  speaking,   in  thought,  to  her  husband  :  — 

"  For  me,  I  am  the  mistress  of  my  fate  ; 


52  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

And  with  my  trespass  never  will  dispense, 
Till  life  to  death  acquit  my  forced  offence. 

I  will  not  poison  thee  with  my  attaint, 

Nor  fold  my  fault  in  cleanly-coin'd  excuses  ; 

My  sable  ground  of  sin  I  will  not  paint. 

To  hide  the  truth  of  this  false  night's  abuses  ; 
M}^  tongue  shall  utter  all  ;  mine  eyes,  like  sluices, 

As  from  a  mountain-spring  that  feeds  a  dale. 

Shall  gush  pure  streams  to  purge  my  impure  tale." 

— 1069-78. 

Subsequently,  when  her  husband  and  his  companions 
are  present, 

"  'Few  words,'  quoth  she,  'shall  fit  the  trespass  best, 
Where  no  excuse  can  give  the  fault  amending  : 
In  me  moe  woes  than  words  are  now  depending.'  " 

— 1613. 

Lucretia's  self-justification  is,  however,  the  same  as 
Bacon's  :  — 

"  O  teach  me  how  to  make  mine  own  excuse  ! 

Or  at  least  this  refuge  let  me  find  ; 
Though  ni}^  gross  blood  be  stain'd  with  this  abuse. 

Immaculate  and  spotless  is  my  mind. 

That  was  not  forced  ;  that  never  was  inclined 
To  accessor}'  yieldings,  but  still  pure 
Doth  in  her  poison'd  closet  yet  endure." 

Her  friends  try  to  console  her  and  to  turn  the  edge  of 
her  self-condemnation. 

"  'No,  no,'  quoth  she,  'no  dame,  hereafter  living, 
B}'  my  excuse  shall  claim  excuse's  giving.'  " 

—1714. 

Bacon  finds  similar  reasons  for  gladness  in  the  depth  of 
his  grief:  "The  first  is  (he  writes)  that  hereafter  the  great- 
ness of  a  judge  or  magistrate  shall  be  no  sanctuar}^  or 
protection  of  guiltiness  which,  in  a  few  words  [a  very 
frequent   phrase   with    Bacon,    and    in    Shakespeare   it   is 


bacon's  case  anticipated.  .  53 

equally  frequent]  is  the  beginning  of  a  golden  world." 
Both  Lucrece  and  Bacon  contract  their  self-defence  into 
"few  words."  These  lines  from  Lucrece  are  very  interest- 
ing as  showing  how  true  to  himself  Bacon  was  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  that  the  heroic  self- 
immolation,  which  he  pictured  with  such  graphic  and 
poetic  touches  in  Lucrece,  more  than  thirty  years  before 
his  fall,  was  the  temper  of  his  own  mind,  which  he  was 
quite  ready  to  carry  into  action  whenever  the  time  for  its 
application  might  come. 

Here  is  a  remarkable  anticipation  of  Bacon's  own  case. 
His  censors  often  sa}^ — a  distinguished  Barrister,  now  a 
Judge,  used  such  language  in  writing  to  me, — "  You  see, 
he  confesses  himself  to  be  guilty  ;  what  more  can  you 
want  ? "  The  reply  is, — Lucrece  also  made  a  like  con- 
fession ;  she  also  found  matter  sufficient  and  full  to  move 
her  to  desert  her  defence,  and  require  the  Court  to  con- 
demn her.  And  yet  her  fault  was  entirety  constructive, — 
it  left  her  with  clean  hands  and  clean  heart.  Her  friends 
entreated  her  to  pardon  herself. 

"  With  this  they  all  at  once  began  to  say 
Her  body's  stain  her  mind  untainted  clears." 

—1709. 

She  rejects  the  plea,  and  without  cavillations  or  fig- 
leaves  surrenders  herself  to  the  doom  she  has  pronounced 
on  herself. 

Other  very  curious  personal  traits  will  be  illustrated  in 
the  next  two  chapters. 


54 


CHAPTER     IV. 

/      CANNOT     TELL. 

There  is  a  phrase  occurring  in  the  opening  of  Bacon's 
Essay  of  "Truth"—  the  first  in  the  immortal  Volume — which 
may  sound   strange  and  only  half  intelligible  when  first 
read.    This  is  the  passage  : — The  Essayist  is  remarking  on 
"  the  difficulty  and  labour  which  men  take  in  finding  out 
of    truth,"    and     the     bondage     which     when    found    it 
"  imposeth  upon  men's   thoughts,"  which   leads   men   to 
prefer  their  own  false  ideas  to  the  substitutes  which  know- 
ledge supplies.     Not  only  does  this  bring  lies  into  favour, 
but   there   is   "a   natural  though  corrupt   love  of  the  lie 
itself."     And  then  he  proceeds  :   "  One  of  the  latter  school 
of  the  Grecians  examineth  this  matter  and  is  at  a  stand  to 
think  what  should  be  in    it,  that    men  should  love  lies, 
where  neither  they  make  for  pleasure,  as  with  poets  ;  nor 
for  advantage,  as  with  the  merchant ;  but  for  the  lie's  sake. 
But  I  cannot  tell."     The   Latin  has  Sed  nescio  quo  inodo. 
This  phrase,  /  cannot  tell,  at  first  staggers  the  reader. 
It  is  not  that  the  puzzle  baffles  the  writer,  for  he  immedi- 
ately   proceeds    to    give    a    very    beautiful   and  poetical 
solution  of  it,   adding,    "  This  same  truth  is  a  naked  and 
open  daylight,  that    doth    not    show    the    masques,    and 
mummeries  and  triumphs  of  the  world  half  so  stately  and 
daintily  as  candle-lights. "     Bacon's  meaning  is  easily  mis- 
understood : — the  reader  may  say,  what  I  have  heard  from 
the  lips  of  a  noble  and  accomplished  lady,  "I  don't  agree 
with  Bacon:    No  one   loves  a  lie  for  its  own  sake."     The 
lies,  or  fictions  to  which  Bacon  refers  are  not  vulgar  fibs,  but 
philosophical  conceits,  speculative  inventions   taking   the 


A    POETIC    FICTION.  55 

place  of  Nature's  facts  and  laws.  And  the  expression, 
"  I  cannot  tell,"  may  be  taken  as  an  articulate  sigh,  a  sort 
of  Heigh-ho  !  Well-a-day  !  Oh  dear,  dear  !  in  which  the 
languid  expression  of  defeat  is  more  apparent  than  real. 
He  does  not  quite  mean  what  he  says,  there  is  in  the 
exclamation  a  sort  of  poetic  insincerity,  as  if  he  were  him- 
self in  propria  persona  supplying  an  instance  to  illustrate 
his  thesis.  For  he  can  tell,  and  does  tell  as  we  have  seen 
in  the  next  sentence.  Let  this  be  well  noted:  the  collapse 
of  judgment  apparently  expressed  by  the  phrase,  I  cannot 
tell,  is  not  real,  it  is  assumed,  a  poetic  fiction,  a  dramatic 
disguise,  a  closed  door  to  be  opened  for  surprise,  a 
momentary  affectation  of  helpless  embarrassment,  which 
makes  the  subsequent  return  to  intellectual  vigour  and 
sufficiency  all  the  more  striking.  That  this  is  the  con- 
scious, almost  technical  meaning  of  the  phrase  may  be 
clearly  shown  by  some  Shakespearean  instances,  one  shew- 
ing its  use,  others  its  abandonment.  The  mode  of  using  the 
phrase  is  clearly  explained  by  Scarus,  Anthony's  faithful 
friend,  when  his  fortunes  were  lowest  ;  evil  portents 
threaten  him,  and  those  whose  business  is  to  interpret 
them,  shrink  from  disclosing  their  import. 

Swallows  have  built 
In  Cleopatra's  sails  their  nest ;  the  augurers 
Say  they  know  not,  ihey  cannot  tell ;  look  grimly 
And  dare  not  speak  their  knowledge. 

{Ant.  and  Clco.,  IV.  xii.  4.) 

Evidently,  I  cannot  tell  is  the  formula  of  evasion,  or 
insincerity :  the  augurers  cannot,  only  because  they  dare  not. 

The  case  of  abandonment  is  to  be  found  in  the  2nd  part 
of  the  old  play  the  Contention,  i.e.,  The  True  Tragedy: 
in  which  the  following  passage  occurs  : 

We  at  Saint  Albons  met, 
Our  battles  ioinde,  and  both  sides  fiercelie  fought. 
But,  whether  twas  the  coldness  of  the  King, 
He  lookt  full  gentlie  on  his  warlike  Queen, 
That  robde  my  souldiers  of  their  heated  spleene, 


56  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Or  whether  twas  report  of  his  successe, 

Or  more  than  common  feare  of  CHffords  rigor, 

Who  thunders  to  his  captaines  blond  and  death, 

/  cannot  tell.  {True  Tragedy,  II.  i.  87.) 

The  same  passage,  with  a  few  verbal  alterations,  (such 
as  her  success  for  his  ;  captives  for  captains)  occurs  in  3 
Henry  VI.  II.  i.  120.  But  instead  of  /  cannot  tell,  we  find 
I  cannot  ji^dge.  The  reason  is  plain.  For  here  the  per- 
plexity is  not  simulated,  it  is  real  ;  the  alternatives  pre- 
sented are  all  possible,  all  reasonable,  and  all  cannot  be 
true.  The  speaker  has  no  means  of  selecting  the  true 
alternative,  the  suspense  is  genuine,  accordingly  the  phrase 
which  is  only  to  be  used  for  a  mock  perplexity  is  changed 
for  one  that  expresses  a  real  doubt. 

The  incorrect  version  was  printed  in  the  three  quartos, 
1595,  1600  and  1619.  The  amended  version  appeared  first 
in  1623,  seven  years  after  the  death  of  William  Shakspere. 
A  similar  change  was  made  in  the  1623  Edition  of  the 
Merry  Wives,  as  compared  with  the  two  quartos  of  1602 
and  1619. 

Slender. — Have  you  bears  in  your  town.  Mistress  Anne, 
that  your  dogs  bark  so  ? 

Anne. — I  cannot  tell,  Mr.  Slender  :  I  think  there  be.     (I.  i.  83.) 

This  is  plainly  not  an  occasion  for  "I  cannot  tell  :  "  it 
had  slipped  in  accidentally.     Accordingly  the  Folio  has, 

Anne. — I  think  there  are.  Sir,  I  heard  them  talked  of.     (I.  i.  298.) 

If  an  authentic  version  of  these  plays  existed  in  i6ig, 
why  was  the  incorrect  passage  then  re-published,  why 
wait  till  1623  for  the  right  version  ?  Doubtless  the  change 
was  made  by  the  author  after  1619. 

In  nearly  all  other  cases  the  mental  attitude  of  the  Essay 
of  "Truth  "  is  reflected.  Thus  Richard,  as  Duke  of  Gloster, 
is  reproached  by  the  Queen  of  Edward  IV.,  for  his  bitter 
aversion  to  herself  and  her  family.  Why  does  he  hate 
them  so  ;  and  with  a  shrug  of  mock  perplexity  he  replies, 


FORMULA  OF  FARCE  AND  MELODRAMA.        57 

I  cannot  tell ;  and  the  fantastic  explanation  follows,  as  in 
the  Essay, 

I  cannot  tell.     The  world  is  grown  so  bad 

That  wrens  make  prey  where  eagles  dare  not  perch  : 

Since  every  Jack  became  a  Gentleman 

There's  many  a  gentle  person  made  a  Jack. 

(Richard  III.,  I.  iii.  70.) 

This  passage  may  be  compared  with  two  entries  in 
Bacon's  "  Promus  :  "  "  Jack  would  be  a  gentleman  if  he 
could  speak  French  "  (No.  640)  ;  and,  ''  There  is  no  good 
accord  where  every  Jack  would  be  a  lord  "  (No.  968). 

In  Falstaff's  exquisitely  amusing  cut  and  thrust  encounter 
with  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  a  similar  use  of  /  cannot  tell 
helps  his  persiflage.  His  Lordship  says,  "You  follow  the 
young  prince  up  and  down,  like  his  evil  angel."  The 
wicked  old  jester  purposely  mistaking  the  word  angel  for 
the  coin  of  the  same  name,  retorts,  "  Not  so,  my  lord,  your. 
ill  angel  is  light ;  but  I  hope  he  that  looks  upon  me  will 
take  me  without  weighing.  And  yet,  in  some  respects,  I 
grant,  I  cannot  go,"  {i.e.,  I  cannot  pass  current  for  the 
good  coin  I  really  am).  "  I  cannot  tell.  Virtue  is  of  so 
little  regard  in  these  costermonger  times  that  true  valour 
is  turned  bear-herd,"  {i.e.,  I  am  the  keeper  of  this  young 
cub.)  "  Pregnancy  [intellectual  capacity]  is  made  a 
tapster  and  hath  his  quick  wit  wasted  in  giving  reckon- 
ings." (2  Hen.  IV.,  I.  ii.  185.)  The  technical  Baconian 
sense  of,  I  cannot  tell,  requires  here  to  be  kept  in  mind  ; 
for  a  very  capable  commentator  paraphrases  it  as  equivalent 
to,  "  I  cannot  pass — in  counting."  But  this  is  already 
expressed  by,  "  I  cannot  go."  /  cannot  tell  is  the  proper 
prelude  to  a  farcical  and  hypocritical  explanation  which 
the  speaker  flings  at  his  interlocutor. 

Another  case  is  found  in  N3^m's  speech  referring  to 
Pistol's  marriage  with  Dame  Quickly.  Nym  is  very  morti- 
fied,— he  is  jilted,  and  vows  in  melodramatic  inuendo  all 
sorts  of  sanguinary  vengeance,  too  dreadful  to  be  described. 
He,  too,  is  at  a  stand  (like  the  Essayist),  to  know  what 


58  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

special  atrocity  is  impending ;  he  will  not  trust  himself  to 
say,  it  is  a  little  past  his  control,  and  the  formula  of  mock 
perplexity  is  required  at  both  ends  of  his  speech.  "/ 
cannot  tell  :  things  must  be  as  they  may.  Men  may  sleep  ; 
and  they  may^have  their  throats  about  them  at  that  time  : 
and  some  say  knives  have  edges.  It  must  be  as  it  may  : 
though  patience  be  a  tired  mare,  yet  she  will  plod.  There 
must  be  conclusions.  Well,  I  cannot  tell."  {Hen.  V.  II. 
i,  22.) 

Again,  Benedict,  who  mocks  at  lovers,  speculates 
whether  he  shall  ever  himself  fall  in  love,  and  be  as 
ridiculous  as  Claudio.  He  is  evidently  quite  sure  that  such 
an  absurdity  can  never  happen  ;  yet  he  is  willing  to  trifle 
with  the  idea:  and  accordingly  he  exclaims,  "  May  I  be  so 
converted,  and  see  with  these  eyes  ?  I  cannot  tell :  1  think 
not  :  I  will  not  be  sworn,  but  love  may  transform  me  to  an 
oyster  ;  but  I'll  take  my  oath  on  it,  till  he  have  made  an 
oyster  of  me,  he  shall  never  make  me  such  a  fool." 
(M.  Ado.  II.  iii.  23.)  The  mockery  is  perfect,  and  its 
typical  formula  accurately  used.  So  Shylock  answers 
Antonio  :  They  had  been  speaking  of  Jacob's  manoeuvre 
to  enrich  himself  at  Laban's  expense,  and  Antonio  asks, 

Was  this  inserted  to  make  interest  good  ? 
Or  is  3'our  gold  and  silver  ewes  and  rams  ? 

Shylock  shrugs  his  shoulders  with  affected  embarrassment 
and  replies, 

/  cannot  fell ;  I  make  it  breed  as  fast. 

{Mcr.  v.,  I.  iii.  95.) 

Sometimes  the  expression  occurs  in  serious  discourse, 
but  the  feigning  characteristic  is  always  present ;  there  is 
some  extravagance  or  fancy  with  which  the  speaker  is 
intellectually  toying.  Thus  the  wounded  soldier  who  des- 
cribes the  heroism  of  Macbeth  and  Banquo  in  battle,  says, 

Except  they  meant  to  bathe  in  reeking  wounds, 

Or  memorize  another  Golgotha, 

/  cannot  tell.  {Macb.  I.  ii.  39.) 


BACON    ALSO    CANNOT    TELL,  59 

This  is  his  way  of  picturing  a  bravery  almost  incredible, 
apparently  impossible. 

Desdemona  also,  maddened  by  Othello's  reproaches, 
yet  tries  to  find  some  excuse  for  his  unnatural  cruelty ; 
accordingly  she  invents  an  excuse  which  she  does  not 
believe,  but  which  is  as  good  as  any  other  ;  she  affects  to 
think  his  treatment  of  her  a  sort  of  mistaken  nursery 
discipline  : — 

/  cannot  tell :  those  that  do  teach  young  babes, 

Do  it  with  gentle  means  and  easy  tasks, 

He  might  have  chid  me  so.  {0th.  IV.,  ii.  iii.) 

The  poet  seems  to  think  the  phrase  a  little  compro- 
mising, too  likely  to  betray  his  incognito,  and  accordingly 
varies  it  in  some  passages.  The  substituted  phrases  are  less 
forcible.  /  ivot  not  what  is  to  be  found  in  Rich.  II., 
II.  i.  250,  and  still  more  rugged  is  the  substitute,  I  stagger 
in  {Measure  for  Measure,  I.  ii.  i6g.) 

In  Bacon's  prose  the  same  trick  of  speech  occurs 
repeatedly.  In  one  case  there  is  a  plain  indication  that 
there  is  more  of  the  will  not  than  the  can  not  in  the  import 
of  it.  Thus  in  the  Essex  Apology,  he  speaks  of  rumours 
which  arose  when  Essex  was  com.mitted  to  the  custody  of 
the  Lord  Keeper.  Bacon  at  that  time  had  frequent  occa- 
sions for  conference  with  the  Queen,  "  about  the  causes  of 
her  revenue  and  law  business,"  and  these  interviews  were 
misconstrued.  "It  was  given  out  that  I  was  one  of  them 
that  incensed  the  Queen  against  my  Lord  of  Essex,  These 
speeches  /  cannot  tell,  nor  I  will  not  think,  that  they  grew 
from  the  Queen  herself."  In  this  sentence,  I  cannot  tell — 
as  equivalent  to  I  will  not  think,— is  precisely  similar  to  the 
passage  quoted  from  Antony  and  Cleopatra^  in  which,  I 
cannot  tell,  I  know  not,  is  represented  as  equivalent  to,  I 
dare  not  speak.  Invariably  the  note  of  insincerity  or 
reserve,  or  non-committal,  is  to  be  found.  He  evidently 
thinks  "these  speeches "  did  come  from  the  Queen,  but 
refuses  to  say  so  distinctly,  and  affects  a  perplexity  which 


6o  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

he  does  not  entirely  feel.  As  to  other  rumours,  he  uses 
similar  language  :  he  had  heard,  "  that  while  in^^  Lord  was 
in  Ireland,  I  revealed  some  matter  against  him,  or  /  cannot 
tell  ivhat."  In  these  cases  a  certain  contempt  is  expressed. 
So  it  is  in  some  other  cases,  for  in  narrating  his  altercation 
with  Lord  Coke,  he  relates  how,  "AVith  this  he  spake 
nei',her  I  nor  himself  could  tell  what,  as  if  he  had  been 
born  Attorney  General ; "  and  at  a  later  period,  when 
Bacon  was  Lord  Chancellor,  and  Coke  as  Lord  Chiei 
Justice  was  trying  to  make  his  own  Court  supreme  and 
penalize  all  appeals  against  its  decisions.  Bacon  with  quiet 
scorn  says,  "Wherein  your  Lordship  may  have  heard  a 
great  rattle,  and  a  noise  of  prcEumnire  and  I  cannot  tell 
what.'" 

In  Bacon's  speeches  the  phrase  often  occurs.  In  that 
referring  to  the  naturalization  of  Scotch  subjects,  he  dis- 
courses on  the  strength  to  be  gained  by  union,  and  on  the 
greater  security  to  be  found  in  the  bravery  of  men,  than  in 
such  stores  of  wealth  as  Spain  had  hoarded  : — 

"  If  I  should  speak  to  you  mine  own  heart,  methinks  we 
should  a  little  disdain  that  the  nation  of  Spain  ,  .  . 
should  dream  of  a  Monarchy  in  the  West  .  .  .  only 
because  they  have  ravished  from  some  wild  and  unarmed 
people,  mines  and  store  of  gold  :  and  on  the  other  hand, 
that  this  Isle  of  Britanny,  seated  and  manned  as  it  is,  and 
that  hath,  I  make  no  question,  the  best  iron  in  the  world, 
that  is,  the  best  soldiers  in  the  world,  should  think  of 
nothing  but  reckonings,  and  audits,  and  mcuni  and  timm, 
and  /  cannot  tell  what."  He  brushes  aside  all  these  un- 
worthy notions  of  security  by  scornfully  ignoring  them, 
and  affecting  ignorance  of  them. 

Bacon's  charge  touching  Duels  reflects  the  same  noble 
scorn  of  the  ceremonies  and  technicalities  attending  these 
deadly  quarrels,  as  we  find  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  in  .4s  You 
Like  It,  and  other  plays  ;  and  here  also  Bacon's  formula  of 
scornful  incredulity  is  found. 

"  But  I  say  the  compounding  of  quarrels  which  is  other- 


CEREMONIOUS    SELF-DEPRECIATION.  6l 

wise  used  by  private  noblemen  and  gentlemen  it  is  so 
punctual,"  {i.e.,  so  full  of  punctilios),  "and  hath  such 
reference  and  respect  unto  received  conceits  —  what's 
beforehand,  and  what's  behind,  and  I  cannot  tell  what,  as 
without  all  question  doth  in  a  fashion  countenance  and 
authorize  the  practice  of  duels,  as  if  it  had  in  it  something 
of  right." 

Justice  Shallow  talks  about  duels  in  much  the  same 
way, — "  In  these  times  you  stand  on  distance,  your  passes, 
stoccadoes,  2in6. 1  know  not  what.'''     {Merry  Wives  II.  i.  233). 

The  same  use  of  the  phrase,  I  cannot  tell,  is  to  be  found 
in  Bacon's  letter  to  the  king  about  cloth  monopolies. 
("  Life,"  V.  258).  In  his  "  Observations  on  a  Libel,"  I.  198; 
his  "Charge  against  Talbot  "  V.  6,  in  that  against  Oliver 
St.  John  V.  145,  &c. 

This  phrase  is  specially  adapted  to  the  ceremonious  and 
polite  style  of  fictitious  self-depreciation  characteristic  of 
the  time.  Such  is  the  language  proper  to  dedications, 
where  it  is  to  be  found  more  than  once.  Thus  the  dedica- 
tion of  the  Novum  Organuni  to  the  king  begins  as  follows  : 

"Your  Majesty  may  perhaps  accuse  me  of  larceny, 
having  stolen  from  your  affairs  so  much  time  as  is  required 
for  this  work.  I  cannot  tell,'''  "  non  habeo  quod  dicam  :  " 
but,  as  usual,  the  self  vindication  is  ample  and  triumphant. 

The  dedication  of  ' '  The  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients  "  to  the 
Universit}'  of  Cambridge  supplies  another  instance.  Bacon 
professes  to  give  back  what  he  has  already  received, 
"  that  with  a  natural  motion  it  may  return  to  the  place 
whence  it  came.  And  yet — I  cannot  tell, — there  are  few 
footprints  pointing  back  towards  you,  among  the  infinite 
number  that  have  gone  forth  from  you."  The  Latin  here 
is,  "Et  tamen,  nescio  quo  modo,"  the  same  phrase  which 
is  employed  in  the  Latin  version  of  the  Essay  of  "Truth." 
He  proceeds  to  explain  how  the  results  of  University  study 
do  really  return  to  their  source,  and  add  to  the  credit  and 
power  of  the  teacher  from  whom  they  were  derived.  And, 
singularly  enough,  the  same  trick  of  speech  or  fashion  of 


62  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT, 

complimentary  self-abasement  is  seen  in  the  dedication  of 
Venus  and  Adonis  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton.  The 
same  hand  that  dedicated  the  Novum  Organum  to  the  king 
that  he  might  "make  this  age  famous  to  posterity,"  may 
surely  be  seen  in  the  words  addressed  to  the  patron  of 
the  youthful  poet :  "  Right  Honourable,  I  know  not  how 
[Latinized,  it  might  be  '  nescio  quo  modo  ? ']  I  shall  offend 
in  dedicating  my  unpolished  lines  to  your  lordship,  noy 
how  the  world  will  censure  me  for  choosing  so  strong  a  prop 
to  support  so  weak  a  burden  ; "  but  he  seems  to  have  'b 
notion  that  his  work  will  "always  answer  your  own  wish 
and  the  world's  hopeful  expectation."  The  feigned  un- 
worthiness  of  the  "unpolished  lines,"  only  covers  a  proud 
consciousness  that  his  poem  is  destined  to  be  immortal. 

Here,  then,  is  a  very  remarkable  trick  of  speech,  quite  as 
remarkable  as  any  other  personal  feature,  such  as  the  tone 
of  voice  which  identifies  a  speaker  on  the  doorstep  before 
he  has  entered  the  house,  or  the  limping  gait  which  helps 
recognition  across  the  street.  And  I  am  strongly  disposed 
to  look  upon  it  as  a  family  feature  inherited  by  Bacon  from 
his  mother.  Readers  of  Bacon's  biography  will  remember 
how  his  mother  was  troubled  by  his  habits  of  studious 
seclusion,  late  hours,  secret  musings  "Nescio  quod,"  as 
she  puts  it — studying  I  cannot  tell  what. 

The  substituted  phrase  which  we  find  in  Richard  III., 
I  wot  not  wot,  is  employed  in  one  of  her  scornful  moods, 
("Life,"  L  115)  and  I  cannot  tell,  is  found  several  tmies  in 
her  letters.  ("  Life,"  L  114.  Dixon's  "  Personal  History," 
pp.  311,  317,  331). 

A  Promus  Note  (1060)  has  "  Nescio  quid  meditans 
nugarum,  totus  in  illis ;  musing  on  trifles,  I  know  not 
what,  and  quite  absorbed  in  them.  ("Horace  Sat."  1.  ix.  2). 
This  points  to  a  classic  origin  for  Lady  Bacon's  style  of 
making  her  complaint.  It  shows  where  the  expression 
circulating  in  the  family  came  from. 

I  may  refer  to  another  side  light  on  this  curious  little 
phrase.     The  word  tell,  associated  with  the  auxiliary  ca7i, 


LIGHTS   AND    SHADOWS    IN   ONE    PICTURE.  63 

cajt  tell,  seems  to  be  the  selected  phraseology  for  a  mock- 
ing usage  ;  and  in  the  slang  of  rustic  jargon  it  becomes, 
"Ah,  when!  can'sttell?"  a  taunting  challenge  equivalent 
to  some  such  phrase  as  don't  yoii  wish  you  may  get  it  ? 
This  is  the  reply  of  the  carter  when  requested  for  a  loan  of 
his  lantern  (i  Hen.  IV.,  II.  i.  43),  and  of  the  servant 
Luce,  who  refuses  to  open  the  door  in  reply  to  the  knock- 
ings  outside.  {Comedy  of  Errors  III.  i.  53).  Precisely  the 
same  phrase  is  found  in  Marlowe's  ii^te-^r^  77.,  II.  v.  57, 
and  in  the  revised  edition  of  "  Faustus,"  published  1616, 
twenty-three  years  after  the  reputed  author's  death  (Sc.  ix.). 
There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  Bacon  was  the 
writer  of  all  these  passages.  The  commentators  speak  of 
the  phrase  as  a  current  colloquial  vulgarism,  but  I  know  of 
no  proof  that  it  was  used  by  any  speaker  outside  these 
dramas. 

Looking  at  the  phrase  as  connected  with  the  special 
characteristics  of  Bacon's  mind,  it  seems  to  reflect  his 
fondness  for  putting  his  ideas  into  a  sort  of  masquerade, 
marshalling  them  in  contending  or  contrasting  ranks.  The 
same  mental  tendency  is  seen  in  his  habit  of  drawing  up  a 
series  of  "Antitheta,"  showing  the  pros  and  contras  of  a 
subject,  allowing  his  mind  to  play  with  both  sides,  balanc- 
ing the  affirmative  and  negative  arguments,  and  pleasing 
his  poetical  fancies  with  varying  cross-lights.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  watch  the  same  mental  attributes  grandly 
philosophizing  in  the  stately  meditations  of  the  "  De 
Augmentis,"  and  toying  with  Falstaffian  fancies  in  East- 
cheap.  The  same  nimbleness  of  intellect,  the  same 
exuberance  of  fancy  and  brilliancy  of  wit  is  shewn  in  both 
cases.  It  recalls  his  own  axiom  of  sunshine  everywhere- 
lighting  up  cloacae,  cottages  and  castles  with  identical 
beams. 


64 


CHAPTER      V. 

COMPANIONSHIP    IN    CALAMITY. 

Bacon's  fall  from  the  loftiest  heights  of  place  and  dignity 
to  the  lowest  depths  of  calamity  and  disgrace  is  one  of  the 
most  tragic  events  in  personal  history  ever  recorded.  The 
pity  and  the  pathos  of  it  is  infinite.  He  was  unprepared 
for  it.  No  qualms  of  conscience,  no  inward  self-reproach, 
no  consciousness  of  hidden  crime  and  vulnerable  circum- 
stance, no  shrinking  from  scrutiny,  no  sense  of  approach- 
ing calamity  disturbed  his  righteous  security.  Even  when 
the  bolt  had  fallen,  he  professed  that  he  had  "  clean  hands 
and  a  clean  heart,"  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  fullest 
exposure  of  all  he  had  done.  The  absence  of  all  premoni- 
tory signs  must  on  the  subsequent  retrospect  have  surprised 
him,  and  contradicted  some  maxims  of  his  philosophy. 
He  was  accustomed  to  think  that. 

Before  the  times  of  change,  still  is  it  so  : 
By  a  divine  instinct  men's  minds  mistrust 
Ensuing  dangers  ;  as,  by  proof,  we  sec  , 

The  waters  swell  loeforc  a  boisterous  storm. 

{Rich.  III.  II.  iii.  41). 

But  it  was  not  so  in  his  case  : 

No  cloudy  show  of  stormy,  blustering  weather 
Doth  yet  in  his  fair  welkin  once  appear. 

(Lucrcce,  115). 

It  is  well  to  remark  how  closely  the  storm  signals  of 
Shakespeare  and  Bacon  correspond.  In  the  Essay  of 
"  Seditions  and  Troubles"  we  read,  "  As  there  are  certain 
hollow  blasts  of  wind  and  secret  swellings  of  seas  before  a 


.   BACON  SEES  NO  STORM  PORTENTS.  65 

tempest,  so  there  are  in  States;  "  and  then  he  enumerates 
such  foreshadows  of  change  as  are  most  graphically 
described  in  John  IV.  ii.  143 — 152,  185 — 202.  This  is  the 
kind  of  "swelling  in  the  State,  which  is  signified  by  the 
infancy  of  Typhon."  ("  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients,"  II.),  The 
swelling  of  the  sea  before  a  storm  is  frequently  referred  to. 
"It  is  likewise  everywhere  observed  that  waters  somewhat 
rise  and  swell  before  storms."  "The  sea  swelling  silently 
and  rising  higher  than  usiial  in  the  harbour,  or  the  tide  com- 
ing in  quicker  than  ordinary,  prognosticates  wind."  "  Hist, 
of  Winds  "  (Works  V,  161  ;  193).  "It  has  likewise  been 
remarked  that  sometimes  the  sea  swells,  not  at  the  time  of 
the  flood,  and  with  no  external  wind.  And  this  generally 
precedes  some  great  storm.""  ("Hist.  Dense  and  Rare," 
V.  360). 

The  expositor  of  the  Philosophia  Prima  certainly  would 
not  say  that  the  kind  of  premonition  of  catastrophe  which 
precedes  tempests  in  States  does  not  attend  personal 
disaster.  Such  portents  really  existed  in  his  case,  but  Bacon 
was  too  blameless  and  too  unsuspicious  to  see  them, 
nothing  to  indicate  that  such  portents  appeared  to  him. 
Even  when  the  nature  and  reality  of  his  peril  became 
manifest,  he  had  no  moral  guilt  to  confess,  only  a  venial 
carelessness.  Absolutely  just  himself,  he  yet  discovered 
to  his  astonishment  that  he  had  become  constructively 
corrupt,  and  he  fell,  never  to  rise  again  in  the  State.  It 
was  a  blow  which  would  have  crushed  anyone  less 
endowed  with  heroic  endurance,  and  with  feebler  resources 
in  discovering  motives  of  consolation. 

My  object  in  recalling  these  well-known  facts  is  to  point 
out  a  very  remarkable  kind  of  consolation  which  Bacon 
found  in  his  grief.  He  sought  solace  in  many  ways;  he 
found  it  in  his  religion,  in  strenuous  literary  work,  in  sym- 
pathy and  friendship,  and  in  philosophy  or  contemplation. 
This  last  method  of  obtaining  comfort — by  contemplation 
— deserves  careful  study:  it  is  both  singular  and  charac- 
teristic.    Bacon  found  relief  by  a  sense  of  fellowship  with 

F 


66  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

great  men  of  former  times,  who  had  suffered  in  the  same 
way.  By  a  strong  effort  of  imagination  he  summoned  into 
his  presence  the  mighty  dead,  whose  griefs  had  been  hke 
his  own,  and  found  a  noble  comfort  in  their  society. 

There  is  something  very  interesting  and  very  unusual  in 
this  mental  attitude;  it  sounds  more  like  a  dream  of  poetry 
than  a  fact  of  experience.  It  could  only  be  possible  for  a 
mind  in  whom  the  dramatic,  realising  faculty  was  naturally 
and  exceptionally  strong,  and  highly  cultivated.  That 
Bacon  could  and  did  thus  take  refuge  in  an  ideal  world, 
his  own  letters  testify,  and  in  one  of  them  he  gives  a  philo- 
sophic statement  of  the  principle.  In  1622,  a  year  after 
his  fall,  he  wrote  a  Discourse  touching  a  Holy  War,  a  war 
against  the  Turk,  and  prefaced  it  by  a  dedication  to  his 
dear  and  trusted  friend,  Dr.  Lancelot  Andrews,  Bishop  of 
Winchester.     This  dedication  opens  as  follows: — 

"My  Lord, — Amongst  consolations  it  is  not  the  least 
to  represent  to  a  man's  self  like  examples  of  calamity  in 
others.  For  examples  give  a  quicker  impression  than 
argument  ;  and  besides,  they  certify  us  that  which  the 
Scriptures  also  tendereth  for  satisfaction,  that  no  new  thing 
is  happened  unto  us.  This  they  do  the  better  by  how  much 
the  examples  are  liker  in  circumstances  to  our  own  case  ; 
and  more  especially  if  they  fall  upon  persons  that  are 
greater  and  worthier  than  ourselves.  For  as  it  savoureth 
of  vanity,  to  match  ourselves  highly  in  our  own  conceit;  so 
on  the  other  side  it  is  a  good,  sound  conclusion,  that  if 
our  betters  have  sustained  the  like  events,  we  have  the  less 
cause  to  be  grieved. 

"  In  this  kind  of  consolation  I  have  not  been  wanting  to 
myself;  though  as  a  Christian  I  have  tasted  (through  God's 
great  goodness)  of  higher  remedies.  Having,  therefore, 
through  the  variety  of  my  reading,  set  before  me  many 
examples,  both  of  ancient  and  later  times,  my  thoughts  (I 
confess)  have  chiefly  strayed  upon  three  particulars,  as  the 
most  eminent  and  most  resembling.  All  three,  persons 
that  had  held  chief  place  of  authority  in  their  countries;  all 


HISTORIC    PARALLELS.  67 

three  ruined.,  not  by  war,  or  by  any  other  disaster,  but  by 
justice  and  sentence,  as  delinquents  and  criminals:  all  three 
famous  writers,  insomuch  as  the  remembrance  of  their 
calamity  is  now  to  posterity,  but  as  a  little  picture  of  night- 
work,  remaining  amongst  the  fair  and  excellent  tables  of 
their  acts  and  works;  and  all  three  (if  that  were  anything 
to  the  matter)  fit  examples  to  quench  any  man's  ambition 
of  rising  again  ;  for  that  they  were  every  one  of  them 
restored  with  great  glory,  but  to  their  further  ruin  and 
destruction,  ending  in  a  violent  death.  These  men  were 
Demosthenes,  Cicero,  and  Seneca— persons  that  I  durst 
not  claim  affinity  with,  except  the  similitude  of  our 
fortunes  had  contracted  it."  ("  Life,"  VII.  371  ;  Works, 
VII.   II). 

Bacon  pursues  the  comparison  by  giving  details  of  the 
separate  cases,  and  comparing  them  with  his  own. 

The  same  spirit  is  shewn  in  a  letter  to  the  King  referring 
to  his  fall  : — 

"  Utar,  saith  Seneca  to  his  master,  niagnis  excmplis, 
nee  me(Z  fortnncF  sed  tucc.  Demosthenes  was  banished  for 
bribery  of  the  highest  nature,  yet  was  recalled  with  honour, 
Marcus  Livius  was  condemned  for  exactions,  yet  after- 
wards made  Consul  and  Censor.  Seneca,  banished  for 
■divers  corruptions,  yet  was  afterwards  restored,  and  an 
instrument  of  that  memorable  Quinquennium  Neronis. 
Many  more."    ("Life,"  VII.  297). 

Thus  we  see  that,  when  Bacon  was  in  trouble,  his 
shaping  imagination  gave  actuality  to  the  historic  pictures 
which  his  former  studies  had  stored  up  in  his  mind,  and 
in  musing  on  sorrows  like  his  own,  his  own  became  less. 
Surely  here  we  have  the  most  perfect,  practical,  and  ideal 
■development  of  the  poetic  temperament — one  of  "imagi- 
nation all  compact."  Never  did  it  rise  higher;  it  gave  him 
a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,  and  lifted  him  out  of  his 
sordid  surroundings  into  a  supernal  sphere,  among  princes 
and  consecrated  presences.      Like  religion,  it  was  the  sub- 


68  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

stance  and    evidence   of  unseen    things,    a   revelation  of 
celestial  beauty.     Here  is  his  portrait: — 

The  poet's  eye,  in  a  tine  frenzy  rolling, 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  lieaven; 

And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 

Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name. 

Such  tricks  hath  strong  imagination. 

That  if  it  would  but  apprehend  some  joy. 

It  comprehends  some  bringer  of  that  joy. 

(M.  N.  D.  V.  i.  12.) 

This  is  a  kind  of  sentiment  which  we  might  expect  to 
see  condensed  into  an  epigram,  or  shaped  into  a  lyric,  or 
paraded  as  a  piece  of  ostentatious  defiance,  or  cheap 
bravery,  or  used  as  a  flourish  by  an  unsmitten  moralist,  in 
order  to  give  literary  interest  and  brightness  to  his 
homilies  on  patience  and  resignation.  But  in  these  cases 
it  is  a  flower,  not  a  fruit  ;  a  picture,  not  a  breathing, 
living  creature.  Bacon  makes  it  the  very  food  of  his. 
suftering  soul,  and  in  this  respect  he  stands  alone  among 
all  the  sufferers  memorized  in  history  or  biography.  He 
has,  however,  one  absolutely  similar  copy, — and  that  is 
Shakespeare. 

The  poet  "  Shakespeare  "  was  evidently  a  man  of  the 
same  type  ;  this  secret  source  of  solace  continually  pre- 
sented itself  to  his  mind,  and  he  discourses  of  it  in  a 
reflective  philosophic  style  closely  resembling  Bacon's 
letter  to  Bishop  Andrews.  The  resemblance  is  striking, 
both  in  thought  and  expression. 

When  we  our  betters  see  bearing  our  woes 

We  scarcely  think  our  miseries  our  foes. 

Who  alone  suffers,  suffers  most  i'  the  mind, 

Leaving  free  things  and  happy  shows  behind. 

But  then  the  mind  much  sufferance  doth  o'erskip 

When  grief  hath  mates,  and  bearing  fellowship. 

How  light  and  portable  my  pain  seems  now, 

When  that  which  makes  me  bend,  makes  the  King  bow, 

He  childed  as  I  fathered.  {Lear  III.  vi.  109). 


THE    PEDAGOGIC    POET.  69 

It  is  very  interesting  to  note  that  this  passage  from  Lear 
is  to  be  found  only  in  the  early  quarto  editions,  published 
many  years  before  Bacon's  fall.      They  were  left  out  in  the 
1623  folio,  probably  because  the}-  are  too  didactic  for  the 
passion  of  the  play.     The  Clarendon  Editor,  Dr.  W.  Aldis 
Wright,  remarking  on  this  omission,  says,  "  Very  properly 
so  ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  lines  either  of  Shakespeare's 
language    or    manner" — in  which  criticism  I    venture    to 
diifer  from  the  learned  Editor.      So  far  as  sentiment  is 
concerned,    which    is    the     deepest     matter,    it    is    very 
characteristically  Shakespearean,  as  the  passages  hereafter 
cited  will  abundantly  prove ;  and  so  far  as  language  is  con- 
cerned "Our  betters" — with  variation  of  pronoun — occurs 
quite  a  dozen  times  (See  ex.gr.,  Twjelfth  Nighi  I.  iii.  125;  As 
You  Like  It  II.  iv.  68).     Bending  or  bowing  under  suffer- 
ing   is    Shakespearean  :    {Henry    V.     III.    vi.    132 — 138). 
"  Childed  and  Fathered"  is  of  course  very  Shakespearean. 
Portia    is    proud    that     she     is    "so     fathered     and     so 
husbanded."    See  Abbott's  "  Shakespeare  Grammar,"  294. 
Bacon's  "  Promus  "  contains  a  note  which  was  utilized  in 
this  passage,  "Better  to  bow  than  break,"  No.  944;  and 
Bacon's  "  Hist.  Hen.  VII."  has  "  The  enterprise  would  either 
bow  to  a  peace  or  break  in  itself,"  (Works  VI.  6g).     And 
surely  the  prosaic  "manner"  is  very  characteristic: — the 
romance  and  passion  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  is  interrupted  in 
much  the  same  way  by  Friar  Laurence,  in  his  soliloquy  on 
plants  and  their  uses.     R.   G.    White  has  an  interesting 
discussion    on    this    very    matter, — the   prosaic,    didactic 
passages  which  intrude  themselves  into  some  of  the  most 
poetic  scenes, — and  he  very  pertinently  asks.  Where  shall 
we    stop,  if   we  begin  to  mutilate    Shakespeare   for    this 
reason  ?     These  dry,  almost  pedagogic  utterances  supply 
instances  of  what  Vernon  Lee  calls  "Baconian  thoughts  in 
Baconian  language,"  and  doubtless  the  critics  would  make 
a  present  of  them  to  Bacon,  if  they  could  do  so  "  without 
prejudice."       These   ponderous  discourses   belong   to  the 
prosaic  side  of  Bacon's  nature,  which  is  all  that  many  critics 


70  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

can  see  ;  for  them  he  is  a  plodding,  note-taking  pedant  and 
nothing  more.  For  Baconians  it  is  satisfactory  to  find  that 
he  does  not  always  cast  away  his  scholastic  robe,  even 
when  writing  poetry  ;  and  even  when  his  style  is  most 
ponderous,  in  his  prose  works,  he  is  not  to  be  mistaken  for 
anything  but  the  Chancellor  of  Parnassus.  But  these 
critical  cavils  are  of  minor  interest,  and  our  study  suffers 
arrest  by  their  intrusion. 

Let  us  now  see  how  Shakespeare  uses  the  same 
sentiment.  In  Pericles,  Cleon,  the  Governor  of  Tharsus, 
when  the  city  is  being  desolated  by  famine,  says  to  his 
queen, 

My  Dionyza,  shall  we  rest  us  here, 
And  by  relating  tales  of  others'  griefs 
See  if  'twill  teach  us  to  forget  our  own. 

{Per.  1.  iv.  i). 

Richard  II.  in  the  agony  of  his  despair  makes  a  similar 
suggestion, 

Of  comfort  no  man  speak  .  .  . 
For  God's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground 
And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  Kings. 

{RicIi.II.lU.n.  144;    155). 

In  the  Tempest  the  same  kind  of  comfort  from  remem- 
brance that  others  suffer  in  the  same  way  is  expressed,  but 
in  a  manner  that  is  more  easily  paralleled  with  other  poets. 
Gonzalo  says  to  Alonso,  in  order  to  comfort  him,  after  the 
shipwreck,  in  which  not  only  the  ship,  but,  as  he  sup- 
poses, his  son,  are  destroyed  : — 

Beseech  you,  sir,  be  merry  ;  you  have  cause, 

So  have  we  all,  of  joy  ;  for  our  escape 

Is  much  beyond  our  loss.     Our  hint  of  woe 

Is  common  ;  every  day  some  sailor's  wife. 

The  masters  of  some  merchant,  and  the  merchant. 

Have  just  our  theme  of  woe  ;  but  for  the  miracle, 

I  mean  our  preservation,  few  in  millions 

Can  speak  like  us:  then  wisely,  good  sir,  weigh 

Our  sorrow  with  our  comfort. 

{Temp.  II.  i.  i — 9), 


TENNYSON  AND  SHAKESPEARE  CONTRASTED.     7I 

Tennyson  refers  to  this  same  source  of  consolation,  but, 
unlike  Bacon,  he  refuses  to  accept  it : — 

That  loss  is  common  does  not  make 
My  own  less  bitter,  rather  more: 
Too  common:  never  morning  wore 

To  evening  but  some  heart  did  l^reak. 

[In  Mem.  vi.). 

The  contrast  between  Shakespeare  and  Tennyson  shews 
how  the  individuality  of  Shakespeare  expresses  itself,  and 
makes  his  musing  something  apart  and  characteristic. 
Shakespeare  makes  Gonzalo  appropriate  the  consolation  : 
Tennyson  rejects  it.  The  reason  is  that  Shakespeare  has 
a  philosophical  mortgage  on  the  sentiment,  which  puts  it 
to  a  special  and  a  different  use  from  that  which  Tennyson 
finds  in  it.  Bacon  has,  so  to  speak,  ear-marked  the  senti- 
ment, and  set  it  aside  for  a  distinct  purpose. 

A  still  more  striking  instance  will  be  found  in  Henry  V. 
— more  strikmg,  I  say,  because  the  dramatic  situation  does 
not  suggest  any  need  of  making  use  of  the  imagination  in 
order  to  conjure  up  companions  in  misfortune.  The  King, 
the  night  before  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  visits  his  army, 
that  he  may  hearten  them  by  his  presence  and  courage. 
He  finds  old  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham,  who  by  reason  of 
age  and  infirmity  might  have  been  justified  in  avoiding 
field  duty,  and  this  dialogue  ensues  : — 

Good  morrow,  old  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham  ! 
A  good  soft  pillow  for  that  good  white  head 
Were  better  than  a  churlish  turf  of  France. 

Erp. — Not  so,  my  liege;  this  lodging  likes  me  better, 
Since  I  may  say,  "  Now  lie  I  like  a  King." 

K.  Hen. — 'Tis  good  for  men  to  love  their  present  pains 
Upon  example;  so  the  spirit  is  eased; 
And  when  the  mind  is  quickened,  out  of  doubt. 
The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before, 
Break  up  their  drowsy  grave,  and  newly  move. 
With  casted  slough  and  fresh  legerity. 

{Hen.  V.  IV.  i.  13). 


72  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

This  is  quite  as  prosaic  as  the  rejected  passage  in  Lear, 
and  quite  as  Shakespearean.  The  reflection  is  very  subtle 
and  philosophic;  the  comfort  suggested  is  strange,  and 
could  only  have  occurred  to  one  who  had  mused  in  a 
similar  way  before,  and  could  amplify  and  vary  the  applica- 
tion of  an  idea  which  he  had  often  used  in  a  more  direct 
and  immediate  way.  This  unexpected  introduction  of 
an  apparently  inapplicable  sentiment  is  curiously  illustrated 
by  its  singularly  fanciful  and  almost  distorted  application  to 
a  case  in  which  the  fellowship  in  woe  suggested  is  of  a 
grotesque  and  impossible  character.  Juliet,  when  she 
hears  that  Romeo  is  banished  for  the  slaughter  of  Tybalt, 
exclaims  : — 

"  Tybalt  is  dead  and  Romeo  banished  ! " 
That — "  banished  " — that  one  word  "  banished  " 
Hath  slain  ten  thousand  Tybalts.     Tybalt's  death 
Was  woe  enough,  if  it  had  ended  there  : 
Or,  if  sour  woe  delights  in  fellowship, 
And  necdly  will  be  rank'd  iviili  other  griefs, 
Why  follow'd  not,  when  she  said,  "  Tybalt's  dead," 
Thy  father,  or  thy  mother,  nay,  or  both. 
Which  modern  lamentation  might  have  moved  ? 

{Rom.  -Jul.  III.  ii.  112). 

This  is  indeed  a  singular  flight  of  fancy  for  a  weeping 
bride.  It  is  not  a  natural  reflection  suggested  by  her  own 
case;  it  is  evidently,  and  expressly,  an  imported  sentiment, 
derived  from  experience  of  an  entirely  different  character, 
and  only  related  to  the  actual  case  by  deep  metaphysical 
analogy.  As  a  part  of  the  dramatic  presentment  it  is  justi- 
fied— 'if  such  a  lovely  outburst  of  passionate  wailing  needs 
justification — by  the  principle  that  the  dramatic  poet  is 
allowed  to  be  the  interpreter  of  the  dim,  half-realised, 
quite  inarticulate  throbs  of  feeling  that  lie  hidden  in  the 
depths  of  the  soul,  incapable  of  shaping  themselves,  for 
the  sufferer  himself,  in  any  form  of  distinct  utterance.  The 
poet  can  see,  the  distracted  girl  can  vaguely  feel,  that  her 
extravagant  lamentations  over  the  banishment  of  her  lover 


\ 


FANCIFUL    ILLUSTRATIONS.  'J'^ 

would  have  been  toned  down  into  more  restrained  expres- 
sion, if  it  could  have  been  brought  into  comparison  with 
other  types  of  sorrow. 

This  feature  of  Juliet's  violent,  unregulated  grief  brings 
it  into  relation  with  the  psychologic  truth  which  she 
expresses  in  words  coloured  by  her  own  resentful  sorrow  : 
"Sour  woe  delights  in  fellowship,  and  needly  will  be 
ranked  with  other  griefs."  But  evidently  the  perception 
of  this  psychologic  law  has  arisen  out  of  a  larger  induction 
than  this  situation  can  supply;  for  its  reasoned  exposition 
it  requires  some  such  language  as  Bacon  employed  in  his 
letter  to  Bishop  Andrews.  It  is  strange  that  this  induction 
should  have  been  made  so  early  in  his  life— as  if  to  pre- 
pare him  for  the  sad  tragedy  of  his  later  years. 

The  same  sentiment  finds  its  place  in  comedy  as  well  as 
tragedy.  Armado,  the  fantastical  Spaniard,  in  love  with 
the  peasant  girl,  in  his  agitation  asks  Moth,  the  lively 
page,  to  gwQ^  him  this  singular  comfort: — 

Arm. — Comfort  me,  boy  !     What  great  men  have  been  in  love  ? 

Moth. — Hercules,  master. 

Ann. — Most  sweet  Hercules  !  More  authority,  dear  boy  ;  name 
more,  and  let  them  be  men  of  good  repute  and  carriage. 

After  other  authorities  have  been  quoted,  Armado  adds  : — 

I  will  have  that  subject  newly  writ  o'er,  that  I  may  example  my 
digression  by  some  might}^  precedent. 

{Love's  Laboiir''s  Lostl.  ii.  67;  120). 

Another  amusing  application  is  given  in  the  play  by 
Dumain,  who,  rather  ashamed  of  himself  for  falling  in 
love,  wishes  that  his  companions  might  keep  him  in 
countenance  by  following  his  example  : — 

O  would  the  King,  Biron  and  Longaville, 
Were  lovers  too  !     Ill  to  example  ill 
Would  from  my  forehead  wipe  a  perjured  note, 
For  none  offend  where  all  alike  do  dote. 

Longaville  [advancing]. — Dumain,  thy  love  is  far  from  charity, 
That  in  love's  grief  desir'st  society. 

{lb.  IV.  iii.  123). 


74  SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  banished  Duke,  in  As  You  Like  It,  finds  similar 
consolation  : — 

Thou  sce'st  we  are  not  all  alone  unhappy ; 

This  wide  and  universal  theatre 

Presents  more  woeful  pageants  than  tlic  scene 

Wherein  we  plav  in. 

{As  You  Like  It  II.  vii.  136). 

But  the  natural  place  for  the  sentiment  is  tragedy.  One 
of  the  most  curious  illustrations  of  its  use  is  to  be  found  in 
Richard  II's  sohloquy  when  confined  in  Pomfret  Castle. 
In  his  solitude  and  desolation  he  seeks  to  "people  this 
little  world  "  with  creatures  of  his  own  imagination  :  and 
when  he  has  thus  dramatized  many  of  his  thoughts,  the 
inevitable  moral  of  solitary  grief  finds  its  expression  : — 

Thoughts  tending  to  content  flatter  themselves 
That  they  are  not  the  first  of  fortune's  slaves, 
Nor  shall  not  be  the  last  ;  like  silly  beggars, 
Who,  sitting  in  the  stocks,  refuge  their  shame. 
That  many  have  and  others  must  sit  there ; 
And  in  this  thought  they  find  a  kind  of  ease, 
Bearing  their  own  misfortunes  on  the  back 
Of  such  as  have  before  endured  the  like. 

(See  Rich.  II.  V.  v.  i — 30). 

Leontes,  maddened  by  jealousy,  comforts  himself,  in  his 
shameful  agitation,  by  the  thought  that  other  husbands 
have  been  as  unfortunate  as  he.  The  passage  is  somewhat 
unsavoury :  see  Winter's  Tale,  I.  ii.  igo — 207. 

The  Baconian  method  of  summoning  up  a  crowd  of 
instances  in  order  to  sustain  the  mind  in  patient  endurance, 
is  most  characteristically  exemplified  in  the  case  of  the 
Duke  of  Suffolk,  who  has  been  captured  by  ruffians,  who 
take  his  life.  He  sees  the  fate  that  is  impending  and 
comforts  himself  by  the  following  curious  use  of  historic 


imagmation. 


Come  soldiers,  shew  what  cruelty  you  can, 
That  this  my  death  may  never  be  forgot  ! 
Great  men  oft  die  by  vile  Bezonians  ; 


GRIEF    SEEKS    THE    COMPANY    OF    GRIEF.  75 

A  Roman  sworder  and  banditto  slave 
Murder'd  sweet  Tulh' ;  Brutus'  bastard  hand 
Stabb'd  Julius  Cassar  ;  savage  islanders 
Pompey  the  Great  ;  and  Suffolk  dies  by  pirates. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  i.  132). 

The  poem  of  Lucrece  supplies  illustrations  of  the  same 
sentiment.  Lucretia  in  her  agony  calls  up  various  pictures 
of  imaginary  woe  to  sustain  her.  The  philosophy  of  this 
comfort  is  present  to  her  mind  ; — 

So  should  I  have  co-partners  of  my  pain  ; 

And  fellowship  in  woe  doth  woe  assuage, 

As  palmers'  chat  makes  short  their  pilgrimage. 

{Lticnxc  789J. 

This  line  is  a  reflection  of  a  Pronius  entry.  Bacon  in  his 
notes  for  composition  makes  the  following  entry.  Varioque 
viam  sermone  levabat,  No.  1015  :  a  Virgilian  reminiscence. 
Two  other  Promus  notes  refer  to  the  same  philosophy  of 
comfort :  454  and  945. 

Lucrece  dwells  with  sympathetic  fellowship  on  the 
images  of  woe  painted  by  a  "conceited  painter,"  whose 
subject  is  the  Trojan  War.  The  time  thus  spent  with 
"painted  images"  is  a  time  of  comparative  relief. 

Being  from  the  feeling  of  her  own  grief  brought 
By  deep  surmise  of  others'  detriment. 
Losing  her  woes  in  shows  of  discontent. 
It  easeth  som^e,  though  none  it  ever  cured, 
To  think  their  doulour  others  have  endured. 

(Lucrece  1578J. 

She  finds  no  comfort  but  only  added  pain  in  the  natural 
symbols  of  joy  : 

The  little  birds  that  tune  their  morning's  joy 
Make  her  moans  mad  with  their  sweet  melody ; 
For  mirth  doth  search  the  bottom  of  annoy ; 
Sad  souls  are  slain  in  merry  compan}' ; 
Grief  best  is  pleased  with  grief"s  society  : 
True  sorrow  then  is  feelingly  sufficed 
When  with  like  semblance  it  is  sympathized. 

{Lucrece  1107). 


76  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  two  lines  quoted  above  (1580-81).  It  cascth  some,  etc., 
are  evidently  a  translation  of  a  Latin  proverb  which 
is  found  in  Marlowe's  FausUis,  published  in  1604,  ten  years 
after  the  appearance  of  Lncrcce.  Solamen  miseris  socios 
habiiissc  doloris.  No  one  has,  I  believe,  traced  this  motto 
to  any  classic  author  :  it  was  probably  invented  by  the 
author  of  Faiistus.  How  it  came  to  appear  in  Lticrece  is 
an  enigma  which  awaits  its  solution.  It  is,  however, 
worthy  of  note,  that  Marlowe  is  the  only  other  poet,  so 
far  as  I  know,  who  is  accustomed  to  this  kind  of  exercise 
of  the  historic  imagination.  The  typical  expression  of  it 
cannot  be  better  exhibited  than  in  a  passage  in  Edward  II. 
The  king  finds  himself  embroiled  with  his  great  nobles  in 
consequence  of  his  passionate  attachment  to  his  favourite, 
Gaveston.  He  at  once  excuses  his  attachment,  and 
comforts  himself  in  the  troubles  which  it  brings,  by  reflec- 
tions of  this  character  : — 

The  mightiest  Kings  have  had  their  minions  : 

Great  Alexander  loved  Hephasstion  ; 

The  conquering  Hercules  for  Hylas  wept  : 

And  for  Patroclus  stern  Acliilles  droop'd  : 

And  not  kings  onh',  but  the  wisest  men  : 

The  Roman  TuUy  lov'd  Octavius  ; 

Grave  Socrates,  wild  Alcibiades. 

{Echvard  II.  I.  iv.  390). 

These  lines  come  surely  from  the  same  pen  as  that 
which  wrote  Suffolk's  soliloquy  before  his  assassination. 
It  is  one  of  those  passages  in  Marlowe  which  forced  Mr. 
J.  Russell  Lowell  to  exclaim,  — "  Surely  one  might  fancy 
that  to  be  from  the  prentice  hand  of  Shakespeare.  It  is 
no  small  distinction  that  this  can  be  said  of  Marlowe,  for  it 
can  be  said  of  no  other."  It  seems  to  me  that  an  analogous 
contact  with  Bacon  may  be  traced.  The  same  mental 
attitude  is  seen  as  in  the  letter  to  Bishop  Andrews.  And 
it  is  somewhat  significant  that  Alexander's  strong  affection 
for  Hephsestion  is  referred  to  by  Bacon  in  his  "Advance- 
ment," (Works  HI.  310)  ;  and  that  the  Promiis  has  a  note 
(No.  785)  referring  to  the  passion  of  Hercules  for  Hylas. 


THE    SENTIMENT    EXTENDED.  "JJ 

We  may  compare  the  above  passage  from  Edward  11.  with 
the  following  from  Bacon's  Essay  of  "  Friendship  "  :— "  It 
is  a  strange  thing  to  observe  how  high  a  rate  great  kings 
and  monarchs  set  upon  this  fruit  of  friendship  whereof  we 
speak  :  so  great  as  they  purchase  it  many  times  at  the 
hazard  of  their  own  safety  and  greatness.  .  .  .  And  we 
see  plainly  that  this  hath  been  done,  not  b}'  weak  and 
passionate  princes  only,  but  by  the  wisest  and  most  politic 
that  ever  reigned."  Bacon  does  not  name  the  instances 
that  were  doubtless  present  to  his  mind  :  he  knew  that  he 
had  done  so  in  his  play  of  Edward  II. 

Bacon's  use  and  extended  application  of  this  sentiment 
is  quite  as  remarkable  as  Shakespeare's.  When  the  King 
was  overwhelmed  with  debt,  and  found  a  difficulty  in 
obtaining  from  Parliament  the  necessary  supplies,  Bacon 
suggests  for  his  comfort ;  "  Sure  I  am,  nil  novi  accidit 
vobis.  It  is  no  new  thing  for  the  greatest  kings  to  be  in 
debt;  and  if  a  man  shall  parvis  coniponere  magna,  I  have 
seen  an  Earl  of  Leicester,  a  Chancellor  Hatton,  an  Earl  of 
Essex,  and  an  Earl  of  Salisbury,  all  in  debt ;  and  yet  it 
was  no  manner  of  diminution  to  their  power  or  great- 
ness."     ("Life,"  IV.  313). 

In  the  speech  against  enclosures,  he  probably  pursued 
the  same  line  of  thought,  for  in  the  "  Meagre  and  obviously 
inaccurate  report,"  which  is  all  that  Mr.  Spedding  can 
produce,  Bacon  says,  referring  to  the  overflow  of  popula- 
tion in  one  place  causing  shrinking  in  another,  "These 
two  mischiefs,  though  they  be  exceeding  great,  yet  they 
seem  the  less,  because  Qnce  mala  cum  multis  patimur  leviora 
videntur."     ("Life,"  II.  82). 

Again  he  uses  the  same  philosophic  comfort  to  extenuate 
the  misfortune  of  the  Queen  being  unwedded  and  child- 
less : — "Let  them  leave  children  that  leave  no  other 
memory  in  their  times.  Brutorum  cEternitas  sobolcs. 
Revolve  in  histories  the  memories  of  happy  men,  and  you 
shall  not  find  any  of  rare  felicity,  but  either  he  died  child- 
less, or  his  line  spent  soon  after  his  death,  or  else  he  was 


78  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

unfortunate  in  his  children.  Should  a  man  have  them  to 
be  slain  by  his  vassals,  as  the  posthuuius  of  Alexander 
the  Great  was  ?  or  to  call  them  his  imposthumes  as 
Augustus  Caesar  called  his?  Peruse  the  catalogue!  Cornelius 
Sylla  ;  Julius  Caesar  ;  Flavins  Vespasianus  ;  Severus  ; 
Constantine  the  Great;  and  many  more."  ("  Life,"  I.  140). 
So  much  was  it  the  habit  of  Bacon's  mind  to  dwell  on 
this  sentiment,  that  it  turns  up  in  most  unexpected  places. 
Thus,  in  discoursing  on  the  revival  of  classic  learning 
which  was  coincident  with  the  Reformation,  he  thus  con- 
nects the  two  events: — "Martin  Luther,  conducted  no 
doubt  by  a  higher  Providence  .  ,  .  finding  his  own  soHtude 
being  no  ways  aided  by  the  opinions  of  his  own  time,  was 
enforced  to  awake  all  antiquity,  and  to  call  former  times 
to  his  succours,  to  make  a  party  against  the  present  time. 
So  that  the  ancient  authors,  both  in  divinity  and  humanity, 
which  had  long  slept  in  libraries,  began  generally  to  be 
read  and  revolved  "  ("Adv."  Works,  IH.  282). 

It  may  be  said  that  the  sentiment  thus  copiously  illus- 
trated is  a  commonplace  for    all     time.      In  its   crudest 
statement  this  may  be  the  case.     The  current  and  more 
usual  form  is  beautifully  expressed  in  Bacon's    Essay  of 
*'  Friendship  :  "   "There  is  no  man  that  imparteth  his  joys 
to  his  friend,  but  he  joyeth  the  more  :  and  no  man  that 
imparteth  his  griefs  to  his  friend,  but  he  grieveth  the  less." 
It  is,  however,  one  note  of  genius  that  when  it  lights  on  a 
current  sentiment,  the  idea  is  ennobled,  amplified,  framed 
in    new   settings,     it    receives   the    stamp    and   shrine   of 
majesty    and   gains  new  lustre  and  significance.      Bacon 
took  this  sentiment  out  of  its  isolation  and  by  linking  it  to 
his  historic  and  dramatic  imagination,  re-created  it.     It  is 
a  most  singular  and  unprecedented  comfort  which  Bacon 
finds  in   his  griefs.     He  is,  as  it  were,  in  banishment,  but 
instead  of   surrendering  himself   to  his  sorrow  and  idly 
bewailing  his  misfortune,  his  mental  activity  is   directed 
into   a  new  channel ;    he   sets    to    work    to    explore  the 
country  in  which  he  is  doomed  to  sojourn  ;  he  sets  it  in 


Shakespeare's  fancies  and  bacon's  facts.       79 

his  "Study  of  Imagination,"  he  surveys  its  extent, 
observes  its  inhabitants,  and  marks  all  their  circumstances, 
conditions  and  occupations.  This  sort  of  solace  seems  too 
fanciful  to  be  of  much  practical  use.  These  fantastic 
dreams,  we  think,  will  surely  melt  away  before  genuine 
misfortune,  we  never  expect  to  see  any  one,  except  in  melo- 
drama, "sit  upon  the  ground  and  tell  sad  stories  of  the 
death  of  kings."  And  yet  we  find  the  fallen  statesman,  on 
whom  Fortune  has  dealt  her  heaviest  blows,  sitting  in  his 
study  and  telling  sad  stories  of  the  fall  of  statesmen, 
"bearing  his  own  misfortunes  on  the  back  of  such  as  have 
before  endured  the  like."  It  is  a  striking  and  most  unex- 
pected commentary  on  the  dramatic  situation.  The  moral 
of  it  is,  not  to  be  too  hasty  in  assuming  that  these  dramatic 
scenes  are  only  "high  fantastical."  Bacon's  life  puts  new 
meaning  into  Shakespeare's  art,  and  brings  his  most 
peculiar  fancies  into  the  hard  highway  of  human 
experience. 


80 


CHAPTER     VI. 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF     WONDER. 

Bacon's  "  Philosophy  of  Wonder"  is  expounded  in  several 
of  his  works,  and  it  is  in  its  full  expression  something 
quite  original  and  peculiar  to  himself,  although  its  origin 
may  be  partly  found  in  Plato,  Dr.  Martineau,  in  his 
"  Types  of  Ethical  Theory  "  (Vol.  11.  p.  140),  affirms  that 
the  assumption  of  Plato  that  Wonder  is  the  primitive 
intellectual  impulse,  has  perhaps  its  most  emphatic  expres- 
sion in  his  Thesetetus,  155  D  :  where  he  says,  "  Wonder 
is  the  special  affection  of  a  philosopher  ;  for  philosophy 
has  no  other  starting  point  than  this  ;  and  it  is  a  happy 
genealogy  which  makes  Iris  the  daughter  of  Thaumas,"  i.e. 
adds  Martineau,  "which  treats  the  messenger  of  the  gods, 
the  winged  thought  that  passes  to  and  fro  between  heaven 
and  earth,  and  brings  them  into  communion,  as  the  child 
of  Wonder.  Aristotle,  in  his  more  prosaic  way,  makes 
the  same  assumption  in  his  'Metaphysics,'  I.  2." 

Bacon  has  nowhere  given  us  a  psychological  system  : 
there  are  numerous  discussions  on  isolated  psychologic 
questions  scattered  through  his  philosophical  works,  but  no 
general  scheme.  Like  Plato,  he  considers  that  philosophy 
starts  from  wonder.  He  has  a  Promus  note  (No.  227), 
super  mirari  ccEperimt  philosophari:  after  wondering,  men 
began  to  philosophize  :  when  wonder  ceases,  knowledge 
begins  :  a  motto  which  is  quoted,  with  humourous  appli- 
cation, in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Cawfielde  :  "Life,"  II.  373.  So 
tar  as  the  knowlege  of  God  is  concerned,  wonder  never 
ceases,  this  knowledge  cannot  be  attained  by  the  contem- 
plation of  created  things.     "It  is  true  that  the  contempla- 


WONDER    PRECEDES    KNOWLEDGE.  8l 

tion  of  the  creatures  of  God  hath  for  End  (as  to  the  natures 
of  the  creatures  themselves)  knowledge  but  as  to  the 
nature  of  God,  no  knowledge,  but  wonder,  which  is 
nothing  else  but  contemplation  broken  off,  or  losing  itself" 
Val.  Ter.  (Works,  III.  218).  In  the  "Advancement,"  he 
speaks  in  the  same  way,  that  "  wonder  is  the  seed  of  know- 
ledge," "wonder  is  broken  knowledge"  (Works,  III. 
266,  267).  So  that  wonder  recedes,  as  knowledge  advances, 
wonder  is  antecedent — the  essential  starting  point,  which 
is  left  behind  when  the  start  has  been  made.  Bacon 
generally  refers  to  admiration,  or  wonder — for  the  two 
words  are  identical,  admiratio  being  the  Latin  for  wonder, — 
as  implying  a  suspension  of  intellectual  activity  under  the 
spell  of  emotion.  Thus  he  speaks  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
skill  in  languages,  by  which,  "She  is  able  to  negotiate 
with  divers  ambassadors  in  their  own  languages  :  and  that 
with  no  small  disadvantage  unto  them,  who,  I  think,  can- 
not but  have  a  great  part  of  their  wits  distracted  from  their 
matters  in  hand,  to  the  contemplation  and  admiration  of 
such  perfections"  ("Life,"  I.  139). 

Knowledge,  Bacon  says,  comes  by  comparison  of  similar 
things,  "  there  is  no  proceeding  in  invention  of  knowledge 
but  by  similitude."  Consequently  wonder  arises  when  the 
object  contemplated  cannot  be  brought  into  this  relation 
with  anything  else;  ex.  gr.,  "God  is  only  self-like,  having 
nothing  in  common  with  any  creature"  (Works,  III.  218). 
And  from  this  follows  an  extension  of  the  theory  of  wonder 
which  is  Bacon's  most  characteristic  thought.  The  mere 
fact  that  anything  is  unique,  not  related  by  simihtude  to 
anything  else,  although  this  is  the  special  occasion  for 
wonder,  yet  it  does  not  occasion  wonder,  unless  it  is  also 
rare  :  if  it  is  familiar,  wonder  does  not  arise.  As  there  are 
miracles  of  nature,  so  there  are  miracles  of  art  of  which 
"  a  collection  or  particular  history  "  should  be  made.  But 
not  only  of  "such  masterpieces  and  mysteries  of  any  art 
which  excite  wonder."  "For  wonder  is  the  child  of 
rarity  ;  and  if  a  thing  be  rare,  though  in  kind  it  be  no  way 


82  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

extraordinary,  yet  it  is  wondered  at.  While,  on  the 
other  hand,  things  which  really  call  for  wonder  on  account 
of  the  difference  in  species  which  they  exhibit  as  compared 
with  other  species,  yet  if  we  have  them  by  us  in  comm.on 
use,  are  but  slightly  noticed."  "  Among  the  singularities 
of  nature,  I  place  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  magnet,  and  the 
like,  things  in  fact  most  familiar,  but  in  nature  almost 
unique"  {Nov.  Org.  II.  31). 

It  is  essential  to  observe  that  in  Bacon's  Latin,  admiratio 
is  the  word  for  wonder  :  Admiratio  est  proles  raritatis  ;  and 
we  see  that  as  what  is  rare  is  the  occasion  for  wonder,  so 
what  is  common,  or  familiar,  dispels  it.  Wonder  is  the 
sentiment  appropriate  to  miracles,  which  are  a  species  of 
monodica,  singularities  either  of  nature  or  art.  And  by  the 
contemplation  of  "  rare  and  extraordinary  works  of  nature," 
or  "  excellent  and  wonderful  works  of  art,"  "  the  mind  is 
excited  and  raised  to  the  investigation  and  discovery  of 
Forms  capable  of  including  them,"  one  of  the  principal 
aims  of  science  being  the  investigation  of  Forms :  when 
the  Form  of  a  thing  is  known,  its  cause  is  known.  And, 
says  Bacon,  "  Causarum  explicatio  tollit  miraculum  "  {Nov. 
Org.  I.  70) :  Explanation  of  causes  takes  off,  or  removes, 
the  marvel.  Miracles  and  wonders  are,  in  Bacon's  view, 
phenomena  whose  cause  is  not  known.  Thus,  the  Second 
Counsellor  in  the  Gcsta  Grayortim  concludes  his  speech  as 
follows :— "  When  your  Excellency  shall  have  added 
depth  of  knowledge  to  the  fineness  of  your  spirits  and 
greatness  of  your  power,  then  indeed  shall  you  be  a 
Trismegistus ;  and  then,  when  all  other  miracles  and 
wonders  shall  cease,  by  reason  that  you  shall  have  dis- 
covered their  natural  causes,  yourself  shall  be  left,  the 
only  miracle  and  wonder  of  the  world."  ("  Life"  I.  335). 
Bacon  concludes  one  of  his  letters  to  King  James  with 
this  courtly  compliment : — "Miracles  are  ceased,  though 
admiration  will  not  cease  while  you  live."  ("Life  "VI.  140). 

The  whole  of  this  philosophy  of  wonder  is  most  curiously, 
most  exactly  reproduced  in   Shakespeare.     The   identity 


WONDER   AND   ADMIRATION   EQUIVALENT.  83 

between  the  two  is  at  once  suggested  by  the  observation 
that  Shakespeare  habitually  uses  the  Latin  word  admiratio, 
in  its  English  form,  as  the  synonym  for  wonder,  as  will  be 
evident  in  many  of  the  passages  to  be  quoted.  At  present 
I  may  refer  to  such  passages  as  the  following : — In 
Cranmer's  prophecy  relating  to  Elizabeth  and  James,  in 
Henry  VIIL,  he  uses  the  following  singular  language  : 

Nor  shall  this  peace  sleep  with  her  :  but  as  when 
The  bird  of  wonder  dies, — the  maiden  Phcenix, — 
Her  ashes  new  create  anotlier  heir, 
As  great  in  admiration  as  herself. 

[Hen.  VIIL  V.  v.  40). 

Note  here  that  the  bird  of  wonder  is  the  unique  bird,  the 
rarit)'',  the  singularity  of  nature,  the  Phoenix.  A  similar 
reference  to  the  Phoenix  occurs  in  Cymheline  : 

If  she  be  furnished  with  a  mind  so  rare, 
She  is  alone  the  Arabian  bird. 

{Cymb.  I.  vi.  16). 

The  discovery  of  Perdita  is  described  with  the  same 
variation  of  language  :  "  The  changes  I  perceived  in  the 
King  and  Camillo  were  very  notes  of  admiration  .  .  . 
di  notable  passion  of  wonder  a.ppea.red  in  them,"  {Winter's 
Tale,  V.  ii.  11). 

In  Cymheline  "a  mark  of  wonder"  is  used  for  purposes 
•of  identification  ;  and  the  phrase  can  be  so  used,  because 
the  mark  is  something  rare  or  unique  : 

Guiderius  had 
Upon  his  neck  a  mole,  a  sanguine  star  : 
It  was  a  mark  of  wonder. 

{Cyiub.  V.  V.  365^ 

Why  a  mole  should  be  called  a  mark  of  wonder  can  only 
be  explained  by  Bacon's  philosophy. 

That  wonder  is  the  vestibule  of  knowledge — the  senti- 
ment that  is  left  when  we  pass  beyond  the  porch  and 
•enter    the    dwelling — is    clearly,    though    not    copiously, 


84  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

expressed  in  the  dramas.     In  the  interior  masque  of  the 

Midsiniimcr  Nighfs  Dream  (V.  i.  128)  we  find, 

Gentles,  perchance  you  wonder  at  this  show  : 
But  wonder  on,  iill  initli  makes  all  fliini^s  plain. 

Tlie  same  philosophical  idea  is  expressed,  rather  cum- 
brously,  in  Hymen's  Hymn  : 

While's  a  wedlock  hymn  we  sing, 
Feed  yourselves  with  qiieslioning, 
That  reason  wonder  inav  diniinisi/. 

{As  Yon  Like  It,  V.  iv.  143). 

The  dissipation  of  wonder  by  the  advent  of  knowledge  is 
curiously  referred  to  in  the  following,  where  also  wonder 
and  admiration  are  synonymous  terms  : — 

Bring  in  the  admiration  ;  that  we,  with  thee, 
May  spend  our  wonder  too;  or  take  ojf  thine 
By  wondering  how  thou  took'st  it. 

{All's  Well,  II.  i.  91). 

The  whole  idea,  and  especially  the  remarkable  expression, 
take  off  thy  wonder,  seems  to  me  a  reflection  of  the  Latin 
explicatio  causarum  tollit  miraculum  :  evidently  some 
reasonable  explanation  is  the  leverage  which  takes  off 
( tollit)  the  wonder  to  which  the  speaker  refers. 

So  again  in  Hamlet,  when  the  rare,  almost  miraculous,, 
visit  of  the  Ghost  is  referred  to,   Horatio  says, — 

Season  your  admiration  for  a  while, 
With  an  attenl  ear,  till  I  may  deliver, 
Upon  the  witness  of  these  gentlemen, 
Tliis  marvel  to  you. 

{Hamlet,  I.  ii.  192). 

It  is  worth  noting  that  the  quarto  (1604)  edition  has  the 
word  wonder,  instead  of  marvel,  in  this  passage. 

That  wonder  is  the  seed  of  knowledge,  is  implied  in  all 
these  passages.  That  it  is  broken  knowledge  is  expressed 
in  many  ways :  especially  by  connecting  silence,  or  hesi- 
tating,  uncertain  speech,   with  wonder.     Thus,    Paulina,. 


WONDER    AND    SILENCE.  85 

before  the  supposed  statue  of  Hermione,  says  to  the  dumb, 
wonder-strickeu  onlookers,  "  I  like  your  silence :  it 
the  more  shows  off  your  wonder,"  {Winter's  Tale. 
V.  iii.  21).  So,  Bacon  begins  his  discourse  in  praise  of 
knowledge  with,  "Silence  were  the  best  celebration  of 
that  which  I  mean  to  commend  :  "  an  axiom  which  has 
some  affinity  with  Paulina's  sentiment,  in  which  silence  is 
connected  with  broken  knowledge.  The  same  idea  is 
expressed  by  Claudio  :  "  Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  of 
joy:  I  were  but  little  happy,  if  I  could  say  how  much." 
{Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  II.  i.  317). 

Benedict  uses  the  same  philosophical  aphorism  : — 

For  my  part  I  am  so  attired  in  wonder, 
I  know  not  -ivhat  to  say. 

(M.  Ado,  IV.  i.  146.) 

The  same  connection  between  silence  and  wonder  is 
implied  in  Hamlet's  reference  to  Laertes  : — 

What  is  he  whose  grief 
Bears  such  an  emphasis  ?  whose  phrase  of  sorrow 
Conjures  the  wandering  stars,  and  makes  them  stand 
Like  wondcr-ivoundcci  licarcrs  ? 

{Ham.  V.  i.  277.) 

And  in  the  Sonnets  we  find  silence  and  wonder  thus  con- 
nected : — 

For  we,  which  now  behold  these  present  days, 
Have  eyes  to  wonder,  but  lack  tongues  to  praise. 

fSonnet  106  j. 

The  same  arrest  of  speech  and  reflection  by  wonder  is 
referred  to  by  Prospero,  the  ruler  of  the  enchanted  island, 
the  worker  of  miracles  and  prodigies  : 

I  perceive  these  lords 

At  this  encounter  do  so  mucli  admire 

Tliat  tlicy  devour  tlieir  reason,  and  scarce  tliink 

Tlieir  eyes  do  offices  of  trull!,  their  words 

Are  natural  breath. 

(Temp.  V.  i.  153;. 


86  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  silence  which  may  be  paradoxically  called  the  expres- 
sion of  wonder, — mute  wonder, — is  excellently  pictured  in 
the  account  of  Henry  V's  eloquence  : — 

When  he  speaks, 
The  air,  a  chartered  libertine,  is  still, 
And  the  mute  wonder  lurketh  in  men's  ears, 
To  steal  his  sweet  and  honeyed  sentences. 

(Hen.  F.  I.  i.  47 j. 

This  passage  becomes  much  more  intelligible  when  collated 
with  the  passage  we  have  quoted  from  Bacon,  referring  to 
the  eloquent  discourse  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  mute 
wonder  which  held  her  ambassadors  spell-bound  in  her 
presence.  Bacon's  philosophy  is  the  key  to  all  these 
passages.  Henry  and  Elizabeth  are  eloquent  in  the  same 
way. 

In  the  passages  already  quoted  the  object  of  wonder  is 
always  something  rare  and  unique,  although  this  quality 
is  not  always  pointed  out.  It  is,  however,  often  indicated. 
An  extraordinary,  almost  miraculous  cure  is,  in  AlVs  Well, 
(II.,  iii.  7),  called  "the  rarest  argument  of  wonder.'''^ 
Bacon  says,  we  have  seen,  that  what  is  rare  is  wondered 
at  ;  and  what  is  in  common  tise,  or  familiar,  is  not  wondered 
at,  even  if  it  be  unique,  and  that  when  philosophy  or 
knowledge  enters,  wonder  retreats.  This  philosophical 
placitum  cannot  be  better  expressed  than  in  the  words 
in  AlVs  Well  immediately  precedmg  : — 

"They  say  miracles  are  past :  and  we  have  our  philoso- 
phical persons  to  make  modern  [modern  always  in  Shake- 
speare means  common  or  ordinary]  and  familiar,  things 
supernatural  and  causeless.  Hence  it  is  we  make  trifles  of 
terrors,  ensconcing  ourselves  into  seeming  knowledge,  when 
we  should  submit  ourselves  to  an  unknown  fear.  Why  'tis 
the  rarest  argument  of  wonder  that  hath  shot  out  in  our 
latter  times."  This  passage  teems  with  Baconian  thought ; 
it  is  a  particular  application  of  the  maxim  caiisarum 
explicatio  tollit  miraculum. 

The  philosophical  teaching  implied  in  this  very  Baconian 


THINGS    CAUSELESS.  87 

speech  in  the  play  is  exactly  reproduced  in  the  Novum 
Organiiin,  11.  28.  And  the  curious  use  of  the  word 
causeless  is  anticipated  and  completely  vindicated.  Bacon 
is  discussing  what  he  calls  Singular  Instances,  i.e., 
instances  "which  are  like  themselves  alone."  And  on 
these  he  makes  the  following  deeply  wise  and  philosophical 
comments.     I  give  Professor  Fowler's  translation  : — 

''The  use  of  Singular  Instances  is  the  same  as  that  of 
the  Clandestine  Instances,  namely,  to  unite  and  extend 
the  limits  of  nature,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  general 
or  common  natures,  to  be  afterwards  limited  by  true 
differences.  For  we  are  not  to  desist  from  enquiry  till  the 
properties  and  qualities  which  are  found  in  such  things  as 
may  be  taken  for  marvels  of  nature  [pro  miraculis  natures]  be 
reduced  and  comprehended  under  some  Form  or  Law  ;  so 
that  all  irregularity  or  singularity  shall  be  found  to  depend 
on  some  common  Form,  and  the  Marvel  [miraculum] 
shall  turn  out  to  be  only  in  the  precise  differences  and  the 
degree  and  the  rare  concurrence  [concurso  raro]  and  not 
in  the  species  itself.  Whereas  now  the  thoughts  of  men 
go  no  further  than  to  regard  such  things  as  the  secrets  and 
mighty  works  [uiagnalia^  of  nature,  and  as  it  were 
uncaused  [secrctis  incausahilibus']  and  as  exceptions  to 
general  rules." 

We  can,  by  help  of  Bacon's  philosophy,  see  why 
causeless,  and  supernatural,  are  connected  with  what  is 
miraculous  or  not  familiar.  We  have  seen  in  the  speech 
of  the  Second  Counsellor  at  the  Gesta  Grayorum  how  the 
two  are  connected  :  "  Miracles  and  wonders  shall  cease, 
by  reason  that  you  have  discovered  their  natural  causes." 
It  is  not  often  that  philosophical  technicalities  are  so 
copiously  presented  in  Shakespeare  :  in  these  writings 
indeed  there  is  plenty  of  philosophy,  but  it  is  usually  fluid 
or  molten,  not  shaped  :  incorporated  with  the  dramatic 
situation,  not  formulated  as  a  detached  commentary.  The 
same   principles   are   latently  present  in  other  passages. 


88  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

When  Hero  returns  to  life  as  if  by  resurrection,  the  friar, 
who  has  planned  the  entire  incident,  entreats  the  company 
to  suspend  their  amazement  till  the  marriage  is  solemnized, 
and  that  they  may  not  be  too  much  influenced  by  the 
apparent  miracle,  he  suggests  that  it  should  be  regarded 
with  the  seeming  knowledge  which  emancipates  from  an 
unknown  fear. 

Meanwhile,  let  ivonder  seem  familiar, 
And  to  the  chapel  let  us  presently. 

\m.  Ado  V.  iv.  70.) 

The  words — let  wonder  seem  familiar — are  almost  un- 
intelligible till  interpretation  is  supplied  by  Baconian 
philosophy. 

That  wonder  and  what  is  rare  or  unique  are  associated, 
is  constantly  implied.  In  the  Tempest  the  unique  specimen 
of  womankind  found  in  the  enchanted  island  is  named 
Miranda,  which  Ferdinand  translates — 

Admired  Miranda. 
Indeed  the  top  of  admiration  !  worth 
What's  dearest  in  the  world. 

[Temp.  III.  i.  37). 

"  What's  dearest,"  is  doubtless  a  variation  of  what's  rarest ; 
dear  being  one  of  those  words  which  is  occasionally  used 
in  almost  a  technical  way,  when  the  philosophy  of  wonder 
colours  its  application.  The  same  use  of  the  word  is  found 
in  the  102nd  Sonnet — 

Sweets,  grown  common,  lose  their  dear  delight. 

The  whole  Sonnet,  one  of  the  loveliest  ever  penned,  is  full 
of  the  philosophical  subtlety  connected  with  rarity. 
"Rarity"  might  be  its  title.  ''The  top  of  admiration" 
recalls  Bacon's  demands  that  the  tops,  or  ultimates,  or 
summitates  of  human  nature  should  be  studied.  (Dc 
Aug.  IV.  i.).  Ferdinand  finds  other  arguments  of  wonder 
in  the  strange  island,  and  rarity  is  curiously  dragged  in  b}^ 
a  poetic  strain  on  language  which  would  be  insufferably 


MONODICA    NATURE.  89 

awkward  in  prose,  but  in  poetrj^  it  brings  to  the  philosophi- 
cal sentiment  an  atmosphere  of  quaintness  and  subtlety, — 

Let  me  live  here  ever  : 

So  rare  a  wondcr'd  Father  and  a  Wife 

Makes  this  place  Paradise. 

{Temp.  IV.  i.  122). 

Even  the  mention  of  Paradise  keeps  up  the  impression  of 
what  is  rare,  or  unique. 

The  passage  just  quoted  is  an  instance  in  which  language 
which  is  impossible  for  prose,  becomes  highly  picturesque 
and  expressive  in  verse,  and  at  the  same  time  brings  into 
poetry  the  flavour  of  philosophy.  In  other  passages  this 
strained  language  is  used  to  bring  philosophical  vigour  into 
dramatic  utterance.  For  instance,  lachimo,  speaking  of 
the  good  qualities  of  Posthumus,  as  but  the  riper  develop- 
ments of  what  he  knew  long  before,  says,  "  But  I  could 
then  have  looked  on  him  without  the  help  of  admiration," 
{Cymb.  I.  iv.  4),  which  Bacon's  philosophy  enables  us  to 
explain,  i.e.,  there  was  then  nothing  unusual,  or  unique,  or 
rare,  or  exceptional  in  his  character,  nothing  to  make  me 
incapable  of  judging  him  calmly,  rationally,  by  comparison 
with  similar  natures  :  he  was  no  argument  of  wonder  then, 
he  ranked  with  common  and  familiar  facts. 

Wonder  is  in  Shakespeare,  as  in  Bacon,  constantly 
associated  with  the  monodica  naturcB,  comets,  or  the  sun 
when  covered  by  clouds,  and  so  withdrawn  from  ordinary 
observation.  Petruchio,  when  he  appears  at  the  bridal 
party  dressed  in  beggarly  costume,  rebukes  the  company 
who  are  scandalized  by  his  appearance, — 

Wherefore  gaze  this  goodly  company, 
As  if  they  saw  some  wondrous  monument, 
Some  comet,  or  unusual  prodigy  ? 

{Tarn.  Sltrciv  III.  ii.  95). 

t.e.,  something  to  be  regarded  with  speechless  amazement. 

Still  more  remarkable  is  the  comment  of  Henry  V.  on 

the  strange  monstrous  crime  of  Lord  Scroop,  as  something 


90  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

rare,  unique— causeless,  or  inexplicable  as  if  causeless— a 
sort  of  monodicum  sceleris,  a  singularity  in  crime,  a  matter 
for  wonder,  not  for  explicatio  causarum — 

'Tis  so  strange, 
That,  though  the  truth  of  it  stands  off  as  gross 
As  black  and  white,  my  eye  will  scarcely  see  it. 
Treason  and  murder  ever  kept  together 
As  two  yoke-devils  sworn  to  cither's  purpose. 
Working  so  grossly,  in  a  natural  cause, 
Tliat  admiration  did  notwlioop  at  tlicni  : 
But  thou,  'gainst  all  fropoition,  did'st  bring  in 
Wonder  to  wait  on  treason  and  on  murder, 

{Hen.  V.  II.  ii.  102). 

Here  again  Baconian  philosophy  is  strangely  evident. 
Wonder — or  admiration, — (for  again  the  words  are  inter- 
changed) does  not  arise  till  no  natural  cause  can  be  dis- 
covered ;  the  crime  is  inexplicable,  not  to  be  explained  by 
similitude  or  comparison,  ('gainst  all  proportion),  so 
entirely  inexplicable  that  reason  is  silent,  and  admiration 
can  only  vent  itself  in  an  inarticulate  cry,  whooping  not 
speaking. 

That  whooping,  the  inarticulate  cry  which  is  all  that 
wonder  is  capable  of,  is  a  word  technically  used  in  this 
sense,  is  illustrated  by  the  following  very  curious 
passage  : — Celia  is  the  speaker;  she  is  tantalizing  Rosalind 
in  reference  to  the  verses  which  Orlando  has  been  scatter- 
ing about  the  forest : — "  O  wonderful,  wonderful,  and 
most  wonderful,  wonderful  !  and  yet  again  wonderful ;  and 
after  that,  out  of  all  whooping!  "  {As  You  Like  Itlll.  ii.  201.) 
This  is  a  whooping  speech — a  reduplicated  exclamation, 
its  best  substitute  for  coherent  utterance, — and  the 
occasion  for  it  is  wonder,  or  admiration. 

In  accordance  with  the  same  philosophy,  the  wild  young 
Prince  Hal,  justifies  his  loose  behaviour  :  he  is  preparing 
a  surprise,  a  wonder  for  the  world  :  The  justification  is 
somewhat  sophistical  : — 

Yet  herein  will  I  imitate  the  sun, 

Who  doth  permit  the  base  contagious  clouds 


WONDER    AND    RARITY.  QI 

To  smother  up  his  beauty  from  the  world, 

That  when  he  please  again  to  be  himself, 

Being  wanted,  lie  may  be  more  iivndei'd  at, 

By  breaking  through  the  foul  and  ugly  mists 

Of  vapours  that  did  seem  to  strangle  him. 

If  all  the  year  were  playing  holidays. 

To  sport  would  be  as  tedious  as  to  work, 

But  when  they  seldom  come,  they  wish'd  for  come, 

And  nothing  pleaseth  but  rare  accidents. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  I.ii.  221). 

In  this  passage  the  occasion  for  wonder  is  entirely 
fantastic  and  unreal,  and  it  is  therefore  all  the  more 
worthy  of  remark  that  the  poet  is  careful  to  define  the 
condition  on  which  wonder  rests  :  no  cause  but  rarity  can 
be  assigned  for  it.  The  sun  is  not  wondered  at  till  he  has 
been  hidden,  and  becomes  rare  and  wanted  :  his  return 
awakens  wonder.  Wonder  is  more  natural  to  the  ignorant 
and  unreflective  common  folk,  whom,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
Shakespeare,  with  his  aristocratic  sympathies,  thoroughl}- 
despised.  He  remarks  of  them  that  nothing  pleases  which 
does  not  fit  into  their  natural  humour  of  wonder — rare 
accidents.  Bacon  also  observes  Nihil  enini  inultis  placet 
nisi  imaginationcni  feriat.  {Nov.  Org.  I.  yy).  Nothing 
pleases  the  multitude  unless  it  strikes  their  imagination. 

With  this  passage  we  may  compare  one  in  the  52nd 
Sonnet,  in  which  Bacon's  wonder-philosophy  is  clearly 
reflected  : — 

Therefore  are  feasts  so  solemn  and  so  rare, 
Since  seldom  coming,  in  the  long  year  set, 
Like  stones  of  worth  they  tliinty  placed  are, 
Or  captain  jewels  in  the  carcanet. 

If,  however,  we  would  see  Bacon's  philosophy  of 
wonder,  in  its  larger  applications,  most  luminously 
expressed,  we  shall  find  it  in  Henry  IV's  remonstrances 
addressed  to  this  same  wild  young  Prince,  for  making 
himself  so  common  and  so  cheap — casting  aside  the  veil  of 
majesty  which  should  al\va3'S  surround,  and  half  conceal 


92  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

royalty,  and  so  forfeiting  the  wonder  and  admiration 
which  Princes  only  keep  when  they  are  secluded  from 
their  subjects,  rarely  seen,  and  when  seen,  admired. 
Opinion,  or  reputation,  for  Princes,  can  only  rest  securely 
on  this  basis  of  wonder. 

Had  I  so  lavish  of  my  presence  been, 

So  commou-hackncy'd  in  the  eyes  of  men, 

So  stale  and  cheap  io  vulgar  company, 

Opinion,  that  did  help  me  to  the  crown. 

Had  still  kept  loyal  to  possession, 

And  left  me  in  reputeless  banishment, 

A  fellow  of  no  mark  nor  likelihood. 

By  being  seldom  seen,  I  could  not  stir 

But  like  a  comet  I  was  wonder' d  at,  .  .  . 

Thus  did  I  keep  my  person  fresh  and  new  ; 

My  presence,  like  a  robe  pontifical, 

Ne'er  seen  but  wonder'd  at :  and  so  my  state, 

Seldom  but  sumptuous,  showed  like  a  feast. 

And  won  by  rareness  such  solemnity. 

The  skipping  king,  he  ambled  up  and  down  .  .  . 

Grew  a  companion  to  the  common  streets, 

Enfeoff'd  himself  to  popularity ; 

That,  being  daily  swallow'd  by  men's  eyes, 

They  surfeited  with  honey  and  began 

To  loathe  the  taste  of  sweetness,  whereof  a  little 

More  than  a  little  is  by  much  too  much. 

So  when  he  had  occasion  to  be  seen. 

He  was  but  as  the  cuckoo  is  in  June, 

Heard,  not  regarded  ;  seen,  but  with  such  eyes. 

As,  sick  and  blunted  with  community. 

Afford  no  extraordinary  gaze. 

Such  as  is  bent  on  sun-like  majesty. 

When  it  shines  seldom,  in  admiring  eves. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  U\.  n.  39). 

It  is  clear  that  in  such  a  paternal  lecture  as  this  the 
philosophy  of  wonder  need  not  have  been  introduced.  Its 
unexpected  appearance,  with  the  care  taken  to  fit  it  to  its 
unusual  application,  shews  what  a  strong  hold  it  had  on 
the  poet's  mind,  and  how  thoroughly  it  possessed  his 
imagination. 


BACON  S    PHILOSOPHY    IN    SHAKESPEARE.  93 

There  are  one  or  two  verbal  curiosities  in  this  speech 
which  it  is  worth  while  observing.  The  poet  speaks  of 
eyes  as  sick  and  blunted  with  connnunity.  Common  is  one 
of  the  technical  words  in  Bacon's  philosophy  of  wonder  : 
community  is  evidently  a  correlative  and  equivalent  to 
familiarity.  The  place  of  this  word  in  the  philosophy  of 
wonder  must  be  remembered  when  it  appears  elsewhere^ 
as  in  the  69th  Sonnet. 

But  why  thy  odour  matcheth  not  thy  show, 
The  solve  is  this,  that  thou  dost  common  grow. 

Also,  when  we  find  Shakespeare  using  the  striking 
expression, 

My  presence,  like  a  robe  pontifical, — 

it  is  interesting  to  find  that  Bacon,  in  his  charge  against 
St.  John,  uses  much  the  same  expression — "You  take 
upon  you  a  pontifical  habit,  and  you  couple  your  slander 
with  a  curse."     ("Life,"  V.  141). 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  Bacon's  "Philosophy  of  Wonder  and 
Rarity,"  with  his  reference  to  the  sun,  comets,  &c.,  as  illus- 
trations, was  not  published  till  1620,  four  years  after  William 
Shakspere's  death.  Ho\v  came  "  Shakespeare  "  to  give 
such  brilliant  and  ample  expression  to  these  ideas  more 
than  twenty  years  before  ?  How  came  all  this  very 
characteristic  Baconian  thought  to  find  a  place  in  these 
poems  ?    Evidently  some  explanation  is  urgently  required. 

I  might  refer  to  other  passages  in  Shakespeare  which 
require  to  be  interpreted  by  the  light  of  Bacon's  Philo- 
sophy of  Wonder :  but  those  which  I  have  produced  are, 
I  submit,  sufficient  to  prove  that  some  of  Bacon's  most 
characteristic  ideas  find  their  best,  their  amplest  expression, 
not  in  Bacon's  prose,  but  in  Shakespeare's  poetry.  The 
crude,  technical,  scientific  exposition  of  the  theory  is  to  be 
found  in  the  prose :  while  the  larger  and  more  varied 
applications  of  the  theory, — the  theory  set  in  many  lights 
and  colours,  as  it  is  seen  reflected  in  the  multipljang  and 
transforming  mirror  of  a  poet's  mind, — is  seen  in  Shake- 


94  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

speare.  But  amidst  all  this  kaleidescopic  changes  the 
individuality  of  the  patient  thinker,  and  that  of  the  tuneful 
singer  and  inspired  seer  remains  the  same.  In  the  prose 
the  speaker  keeps  on  the  solid  ground  of  science  and 
philosophy,  his  wings  are  folded,  and  his  harp  is  silent ; 
but  in  the  poetry  he  carries  the  same  thoughts  into  higher 
regions — he  ascends  the  Empyrean,  and  the  higher  he 
ascends  the  more  rapturous  and  musical  is  his  strain, 
although  he  has  brought  his  theme  from  the  lower  levels 
of  philosophy.     As  the  lark,  so  also  is  he. 

Type  of  the  wise  who  soar,  but  never  roam, 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home. 


95 


CHAPTER     VII. 

BACON'S    PHILOSOPHY    OF    HOPE. 

1  DO  not  think  that  this  chapter  will  be  less  valuable  or  less 
acceptable,  because  it  will  contain  very  little  of  my  own. 
My  object  will  be  obtained  if  by  the  grouping  and  com- 
parison of  various  passages  from  Bacon  and  Shakespeare 
I  can  show  in  another  striking  instance  how  remarkably 
their  ideas  correspond.  If  I  can  do  this  both  the  prose 
and  the  poetry  will  be  illustrated.  The  philosophy  be- 
comes more  poetical  and  the  poetry  more  philosophical, 
as  the  two  are  brought  together. 

Those  who  have  raised  the  objection  against  the 
Baconian  theory,  that  the  Author  of  the  Essay  of  "  Love  " 
could  not  have  written,  or  even  understood,  the  love 
scenes  of  Shakespeare,  might  with  even  greater  plausi- 
bility have  urged  that  the  genial  dramatic  poet,  who  saw 
the  world  of  men  and  nature  always  arrayed  in  the  rich 
colouring  and  the  radiant  glow  of  poetry  and  imagination, 
cannot  be  the  hard-headed,  matter-of-facf,  somewhat 
cynical  statesman  and  philosopher,  who  dilated  with  such 
pitiless  logic  on  the  uselessness  of  Hope,  and  even  con- 
tended that  it  is  for  men  both  delusive,  mischievous,  and 
injurious.  In  truth,  Bacon's  language  about  Hope  is  one 
of  the  most  curious  features  of  his  philosophy,  and  startles 
even  such  a  devoted  admirer  and  sympathetic  commentator 
as  Mr.  Spedding,  In  the  preface  to  the  Mcditationcs 
SacrcB  Mr.  Spedding  refers  especially  to  the  meditation 
De  Spe  Terrestri,  as  a  singular  and  characteristic  sample 
of  Bacon's  outlook  on  life  at  the  age  of  ^y,  and  thus 
comments  upon  it : — 


g6  SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

"The  aphorism  attributed  to  HeracHtus  that  Dry  light  is 
the  best  soul*  was  indeed  at  all  times  a  favourite  with  him." 

The  use  of  the  word  watery  may  account  for  and  explain 
its  use  in  Shakespeare  :  — 

The  imaginary  relish  is  so  sweet 
That  it  enchants  my  sense  :  what  will  it  be 
When  that  the  watery  palate  tastes  indeed 
Love's  thrice  repured  nectar  ? 

(Tro.  Cr.  III.  ii.  20). 

Bacon  being  accustomed  to  associate  purity  and  dryness, 
thinks  of  that  type  of  taste  which  is  not  accustomed  to 
pure  nectar  as  soft  and  watery.     Spedding  continues  : — 

"But  I  do  not  think  he  has  anywhere  else  made  so 
resolute  an  attempt  to  translate  it  into  a  practical  precept 
for  the  regulation  of  the  mind,  and  fairly  to  follow  to  its 
legitimate  consequences  the  doctrine  that  absolute  veracity 
and  freedom  from  all  delusion  is  the  only  sound  condition 
of  the  soul.  Upon  this  principle  a  reasonable  expectation 
of  good  to  come  founded  upon  a  just  estimate  of  proba- 
bilities, is  the  only  kind  of  hope  which  in  the  things  of 
this  life  a  man  is  permitted  to  indulge  ;  all  hope  that  goes 
beyond  this  being  reserved  for  the  life  to  come.  The 
spirit  of  hope  must  have  been  strong  in  Bacon  himself,  if 
at  the  age  of  37  he  could  still  believe  it  possible  for  man  to 
walk  by  the  light  of  reason  alone.  I  suppose  it  did  not 
hold  out  much  longer.  His  own  experience  must  have 
taught  him,  that  had  he  never  hoped  to  do  more  than  he 
succeeded  in  doing,  he  would  never  have  had  the  spirit  to 
proceed  ;  and  that  to  reduce  hope  within  the  limits  of 
reasonable  expectation  would  be  to  abjure  the  possunt  quia 
posse  videntur,  and  to  clip  the  wings  of  enterprise  ;  and  he 
learned  before  he  died  to  recommend  the  '  Entertaining  of 

*  Bacon  often  refers  to  dry  light :  i.e.,  knowledge  which  is  a  pure 
and  accurate  reflection  of  fact,  not  "  infused  or  drenched  "  by  the 
personal  qualities  of  the  mind  that  receives  it.  "  This  same  lumen 
sicum,"  he  says,  "  doth  parch  and  offend  most  men's  watery  and  soft 
natures."     f"  Advancement  "  II.,  xii.  2.j 


HOPE    VERSUS    VERACITY.  97 

hopes,'  as  one  of  the  best  medicines  for  the  preservation  of 
health." 

Mr.  Spedding  refers  to  the  Essay  of  "The  Regimen  of 
Health,"  originally  published  in  1597  (the  same  time  as  the 
Meditationes  Sacrce)  ;  and  again  in  1612.  But  not  till  1625 
was  the  precept  "  Entertain  hopes"  included  among  those 
for  the  regulation  of  health. 

The  whole  subject  is  most  interesting,  and  the  Medita- 
tion, in  which  it  is  most  amply  expounded  is  worth 
reproducing,  especially  as  we  shall  find  that  Bacon's  very 
characteristic  idea,  in  its  scope  and  also  in  its  limitations, 
is  best  represented  by  combining  the  didactic  expositions 
of  the  Philosophy  of  Hope  in  the  prose  with  Shakespeare's 
dramatic  presentation  of  the  same  subject.  Moreover, 
this  special  feature  of  Bacon's  philosophy  is  very  little 
known,  and  its  remarkable  coincidence  with  Shake- 
spearean thought  has  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  been  noticed. 

The  text  for  Bacon's  Meditation,  De  Spe  Terrcstri  is, 
Melior  est  oculorum  visio  quam  animi  progressio :  "Better 
is  the  sight  of  the  eyes  than  the  wandering  of  the  desire." 
And  the  sermon  which  follows  begins  as  follows : — 

"The  sense,  which  takes  everything  simply  as  it  is, 
makes  a  better  mental  condition  and  estate  than  those 
imaginations  and  wanderings  of  the  mind.  For  it  is  the 
nature  of  the  human  mind,  even  in  the  gravest  wits,  the 
moment  it  receives  an  impression  of  anything,  to  sally 
forth  and  spring  forward,  and  expect  to  find  everything 
else  in  harmony  with  it  ;  if  it  be  an  impression  of  good, 
then  it  is  prone  to  indefinite  hope ;  if  of  evil,  to  fear ; 
whence  it  is  said, — 

"  By  her  own  tales  is  Hope  full  oft  deceived. 

"And,  on  the  other  hand, — 

"  In  doubtful  times  Fear  still  forbodes  the  worst. 

"  In  fear  however  there  is  some  advantage  :  it  prepares 
endurance,  and  sharpens  industry. 

H 


g8  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

"  The  task  can  show  no  face  that's  strange  to  me: 
Each  chance  I  have  pondered,  and  in  thought  rehearsed." 

So  far  there  is  nothing  very  starthng,  and  it  is  not 
surprising  that  we  are  on  ground  common  also  to  Shake- 
speare. The  resemblance  is  very  exact.  For  Bacon's 
discourse  at  this  point  might  be  embellished  with  part  of 
the  dialogue  between  Troilus  and  Cressida  (III.  ii.  74). 

Tro. — Fear  makes  devils  of  cherubims,  they  never  see  truly. 

[and  yet] 

Cres. — Blind  fear,  that  seeing  reason  leads,  finds  safer  footing  than 
blind  reason,  stumbling  without  fear.  To  fear  the  worst  oft  cures 
the  worse. 

And,   in  the  lowest  levels  of  misfortune  the  victim  may 
say  :— 

Yet  better  thus,  and  known  to  be  contemn'd, 
Than  still  contemn'd  and  flatter'd.     To  be  worst. 
The  lowest  and  most  dejected  thing  of  fortune. 
Still  stands  in  esperance,  lives  not  in  fear. 
The  lamentable  change  is  from  the  best  : 
The  worst  returns  to  laughter. 

{Lear  IV.  i.  i). 

Bacon  continues  his  sermon;  and  now  he  surprises  us: — 
"  But  in  hope  there  seems  to  be  no  use.  For  what  avails 
that  anticipation  of  good  ?  If  the  good  turns  out  less  than 
you  hoped  for,  good  though  it  be,  yet  because  it  is  not  so 
good,  it  seems  to  you  more  like  a  loss  than  a  gain,  by 
reason  of  the  over-hope.  If  neither  more  or  less  but  so," 
— [an  expression,  it  may  be  parenthetically  noticed,  which 
has  a  singular  resemblance  to  Kent's  language  addressed  to 
Cordelia  {Lear  IV.  vii.  5) : — 

All  my  reports  go  with  the  modest  truth: 
Nor  more,  nor  clipp'd,  but  so. 

—  "the  event  being  equal  and  answerable  to  the  hope,  yet 
the  flower  of  it  having  been  by  that  hope  already  gathered, 
you  find  it  a  stale  thing  and  almost  distasteful.      If  the 


FALSE    SECURITY    RESTING   ON    HOPE.  QQ 

good  be  beyond  the  hope,  then  no  doubt  there  is  a  sense  of 
gain.  True;  yet,  had  it  not  been  better  to  gain  the  whole 
by  hoping  not  at  all,  than  the  difference  by  hoping  too 
little  ?  And  such  is  the  effect  of  hope  in  prosperity.  But 
in  adversity  it  enervates  the  true  strength  of  the  mind.  For 
matter  of  hope  cannot  always  be  forthcoming;  and  if  it 
fail,  though  but  for  a  moment,  the  whole  strength  and 
support  of  the  mind  goes  with  it.  Moreover,  the  mind 
suffers  in  dignity,  when  we  endure  evil  only  by  self- 
deception  and  looking  another  way,  and  not  by  fortitude 
and  judgment.  And  therefore  it  was  an  idle  fiction 
of  the  poet's  to  make  Hope  the  antidote  of  human 
diseases,  because  it  mitigates  the  pain  of  them ;  whereas 
it  is  in  fact  an  inflammation  and  exasperation  of 
them,  rather  multiplying  and  making  them  break  out 
afresh.  So  it  is  nevertheless  that  most  men  give  them- 
selves up  entirely  to  imaginations  of  hope,  and  these  wander- 
ings of  the  mind;  and,  thankless  for  the  past,  scarce  attend- 
ing to  the  present,  ever  young,  hang  merel}/  upon  the  future. 
I  beheld  all  that  walk  under  the  sun,  with  the  next  youth  that 
shall  rise  after  him,  which  is  a  sore  disease  and  a  great  madness 
of  the  mind.  You  will  ask,  perhaps,  if  it  be  not  better, 
when  a  man  knows  not  what  to  expect,  that  he  should 
■divine  well  of  the  future,  and  rather  hope  than  distrust, 
seeing  that  hope  makes  the  mind  more  tranquil.  Certainly 
in  all  delay  and  expectation,  to  keep  the  mind  tranquil  and 
steadfast,  by  the  good  government  and  composure  of  the 
same,  I  hold  to  be  the  chief  firmament  of  human  life;  but 
such  tranquillity  as  depends  upon  hope  I  reject,  as  light 
and  unsure.  Not  but  it  is  fit  to  foresee  and  pre-suppose  upon 
sound  and  sober  conjecture  good  things  as  well  as  evil,  that 
we  may  the  better  fit  our  actions  to  the  probable  event; 
only  this  must  be  the  work  of  the  understanding  and  judg- 
ment, with  a  just  inclination  of  the  feeling.  But  who  is 
there,  whose  hopes  are  so  ordered,  that  when  once  he 
has  concluded  with  himself  out  of  a  vigilant  and  steady 
<:onsideration  of  probabilities  that  better  things  are  coming, 


100         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   JN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

he  has  not  dwelt  upon  the  very  anticipation  of  good,  and 
indulged  in  that  kind  of  thought  as  a  pleasant  dream  ? 
And  this  it  is  which  makes  the  mind  light,  frothy,  un- 
equal, wandering.  Therefore,  all  hope  is  to  be  employed 
upon  the  life  to  come  in  heaven;  but  here  on  earth  by  how 
much  purer  is  the  sense  of  things  present,  without  in- 
fection or  tincture  of  imagination,  by  so  much  wiser  and 
better  is  the  soul. 

Long  hope  to  cherish  in  so  short  a  span 
Beiits  not  man." 

The  idle  fiction  of  the  poets  here  referred  to  is  still 
further  expounded  in  the  discourse  on  Prometheus.  Pan- 
dora is  a  fair  and  lovely  woman,  made  by  Vulcan,  by 
order  of  Jupiter,  in  order  to  chastise  the  insolence  of 
Prometheus.  She  carried  an  elegant  vase  in  which  were 
enclosed  all  mischief  and  calamities,  only  at  the  bottom 
was  Hope.  This  was  rejected  b}^  Prometheus — the  type 
of  foresight — but  accepted  by  his  incautious  brother, 
Epimetheus,  the  type  of  improvidence.  His  followers 
"  amuse  their  minds  with  many  empty  hopes,  m  which  they 
take  delight,  as  in  pleasant  dreams,  and  so  sweeten  the 
miseries  of  life." 

All  this  is  strange  teaching,  very  logical,  but  very  un- 
palatable. Hope  must  be  restrained  like  iviagination:  its 
anticipations  are  ^Hight  and  unsure;  "  it  is  allied  to  mad- 
ness; it  raises  pleasant  dreams  which  sweeten  life,  but  do 
not  add  to  its  strength  and  dignity.  It  keeps  the  mind 
steadfast,  by  the  help  of  delusion.  How  does  all  this 
teaching  look  when  it  is  applied  to  practice  ?  This  may 
be  seen  in  the  debate  held  between  certain  lords  who  are 
plotting  insurrection  against  the  fourth  Henry.  The 
Archbishop  of  York  begins  : — 

Thus  have  you  heard  our  cause  and  known  our  means; 
And,  my  most  noble  friends,  I  pray  you  all 
Speak  plainly  your  opinion  of  our  hopes. 

And  then  follows  a  comparison  between  their  own  forces 
and  those  of  the  King — giving  grounds  for  hope  derived 


MADNESS    AND    FLATTERY.  lOI 

from  the  "understanding  and  judgment."  Lord  Bardolph 
discourages  action  that  is  prompted  only  by  hope,  and  his 
counsel  is  that  their  movements  must  be  exactly  pro- 
portioned to  their  ability,  not  to  their  expectations  : — 

For  in  a  theme  so  bloody-faced  as  this 

Conjcciiirc,  cxpcctaiioii,  and  surmise 

Of  aids  incertain,  should  not  be  admitted. 

Arch. — 'Tis  ver}'  true,  Lord  Bardolph;  for  indeed 

It  was  young  Hotspur's  case  at  Shrewsbury. 

L.  Bard. — It  was,  my  lord  :  who  lined  himself  with  hope, 
Ealing  Ihe  air  on  promise  of  suppl}', 
Flaticring  himself  in  project  of  a  power, 
Much  smaller  than  the  smallest  of  his  thoughts. 
And  so,  wilh  great  imagination, 
Proper  to  madmen,  led  his  powers  to  death, 
And  winking  \_i.c.,  with  eyes  shut — dreaming]  leap'd  into 
destruction. 

Here  we  find  hope  coupled  with  conjecture,  surmise  of 
aids  uncertain  (or  unsure),  with  eating  the  air,  flattery, 
imagination,  and  madness,  and  with  eyes  shut  as  in 
slumber — all  Baconian  points  of  view.  The  discussion, 
however,  continues.  Lord  Hastings  asks  the  same  ques- 
tion that  Bacon  puts  into  the  mouth  of  an  objector,  who 
wishes  to  know  if  it  is  not  just  as  well  to  "  divine  well  of 
the  future  :  "  — 

But  b}^  your  leave,  it  never  yet  did  hurt 
To  lay  down  likelihoods  and  forms  of  hope. 

*' Yes,"  replies  Bardolph,  vindicating  the  Baconian  view — 

Yes;  if  this  present  quality  of  war,  .  .  . 

Lives  so  in  hope  as  in  an  early  spring 

We  see  the  appearing  liuds;  which  to  prove  fruit, 

Hope  gives  not  so  much  warrant,  as  despair 

That  frosts  will  bite  them.     When  we  mean  to  build. 

We  first  survey  the  plot,  then  draw  the  model. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.) 

And  then  follows  a  moralizing  similar  to  the   "counting 


102  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

cost"  of  the  Gospels— a  "sound  and  sober  conjecture"  of 
probabilities. 

The   same   attitude   is   more    briefly   described   by   the 
soldiers,  who  are  plotting  revolution  against  Macbeth. 

Thoughts  speculative  their  unsure  hopes  relate  : 
But  certain  issue  strokes  must  arbitrate. 

{Macbeth  V.  iv.  19.) 

Evidently  in  Shakespeare's  opinion,  the  proper  attitude  of 
a  warrior  is  to  keep  hope  altogether  subordinate,  and  out- 
side his  calculations,  following  the  guidance  of  reason  and 
fact  ;  he  takes  counsel  of  judgment  and  understanding, 
not  of  hope.  Hope  is  as  unsuitable  for  him  as  for  the 
condemned  prisoner,  who  is  exhorted  by  his  priestly 
counsellor — 

Prepare  yourself  to  death  :    do  not  satisfy  your  resolution   with 
hopes  that  are  fallible  [Mens.  M.  III.  i.  167.) 

The  same  teaching  is  shadowed  in  Agamemnon's  speech 
to  the  Grecian  warriors.     He  also  declares  that — 

The  ample  proposition  that  hope  makes 

In  all  designs  begun  on  earth  below 

Fails  in  the  promised  largeness.     Checks  and  disasters 

Grow  in  the  veins  of  actions  highest  reared. 

{Tro.  Cres.  I.  iii.  3.) 

And   then   follows   a   discourse   of  matchless    wisdom, 
beauty,  and  eloquence  on  the  lessons  to  be  drawn  from 

failure  and  difficulty Equally  frail  are  the 

hopes  built  on  royal  or  human   favour. 

O  momentary  grace  of  mortal  men, 

Which  wc  more  hunt  for  than  the  grace  of  God  ! 

Who  builds  his  hopes  in  air  of  your  good  looks, 

Lives  like  a  drunken  sailor  on  a  mast, 

Ready,  with  every  nod,  to  tumble  down 

Into  the  fatal  bowels  of  the  deep. 

{Richard  III.  III.  iv.  98.) 

The  treachery  of  hope  is  also  implied  in  the  following — 
Oft  expectation  fails  ;  and  most  oft  there 


HOPE  NOT  FOR  EARTH  BUT  HEAVEN.       IO3 

Where  most  it  promises  :  and  oft  it  hits 
Where  hope  is  coldest,  and  despair  most  fits, 

{All's  W.  II.  i.  145.) 

One  of  the  baleful  effects  of  witchcraft  is  the  raising  of 
hopes  which  are  unreasonable.  Macbeth  was  to  be  thus 
bewitched  : — 

Magic  sleights, 
Shall  raise  such  artificial  sprites. 
As  by  the  strengtli  of  their  illusion 
Shall  draw  him  on  to  his  confusion. 
He  shall  spurn  fate,  scorn  death,  and  bear, 
His  hopes  'bove  wisdom,  grace  and  fear : 
And  you  all  know,  security 
Is  mortal's  chiefest  enemy.         {Macbeth  III.  v  26.) 

Shakespeare  as  well  as  Bacon  tells  us  that  all  hope  that 
goes  beyond  reasonable  calculation  should  refer  to  the  life 
to  come,  not  to  the  present  stage  of  being. 

Comfort's  in  heaven,  and  we  are  on  the  earth, 
Where  nothing  lives  but  crosses,  cares  and  griefs. 

{Richard  III.  II.  ii.  78.) 

And  accordingly  the  fallen  statesman — 

Gave  his  honours  to  the  world  again. 

His  blessed  part  to  heaven,  and  slept  in  peace. 

{Henry  VIII.  IV.  ii.  29.) 

This  conception  of  Hope  is  fundamental  in  Bacon's 
writings  ;  but  there  are  other  sides  worthy  of  con- 
templation. 

Hope,  alt  lough  based  on  illusion,  as  long  as  it  is 
cherished,  gives  support  and  tranquility  to  the  mind  ; 
this  is  one  prime  condition  of  physical  health.  Hence 
"Entertain  Hopes,"  is  one  of  the  prescriptions  of  the 
Regiment  of  Health.  Hope  prolongs  life,  by  keeping  off 
the  corrosion  of  despair.  In  this  point  of  view,  that  of 
physical  advantage.  Bacon's  language  changes.  No  longer 
does  he  say,  "  In  Hope  there  is  no  use  ;  "  but,  "  Hope  is  of 
all  affections  the  most  useful,  and  contributes  most  to  pro- 
long life,  if  it  be  not  too  often  disappointed,  but  feed  the 


104         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

imagination  with  the  prospect  of  good.     They,  therefore, 
who  get  up  and  propose  some  definite  end  as  their  mark 
in  life,  and  continually  and  gradually  advance  thereto,  are 
most!}'  long-lived  ;  in  so  much  that  when  they  arrive  at 
the  summit  of  their  hopes,  and  have  nothing  more  to  look 
forward  to,  they  commonly  droop,  and  do  not  long  survive. 
So  that  hope  appears  to  be  a  kind   of  leaf-joy,  which  may 
be  spread  out  over  a  vast  surface  like  gold  "  "  Hist.  Life 
and  Death "  (Works   V.    279).     Also   discoursing   on   the 
"affections    and    passions    of   the  mind,   which  are  pre- 
judicial to  longevity,  and  which  are  profitable,"  he  says, 
"  Ruminations  of  joy  in  the  memory,  or  apprehensions  of 
them  in  hope  or  imagination  are  good"  {lb.).    A  French 
proverb  in    the    Promus,     1472,    reflects    this    sentiment, 
"  Commence  a    mourir   qui   abandonne  son   desir "     (He 
who  forsakes  the   object  of  living — his  desire — begins  to 
die)  ;  a  sentiment  most  poetically  expressed  in  the  Essay 
of    "  Death  :  " —  the  sweetest   Canticle   is  Nunc   dimittis, 
when  a  man  hath  attained  worthy  ends  and  expectations. 

Bacon's  language,  "feed  the  imagination  with  the 
prospect  of  good,"  is  not  unlike  Shakespeare's,  already 
quoted,  in  Hotspur,  who 

Lined  himself  with  hope, 

Eating  the  air  in  promise  of  supply, 

With  great  imagination,  proper  to  madmen. 

Curiously  enough  precisely  the  same  conception  of  hope 
is  found  in  the  first  play  of  the  Parnassus  trilogy,  "  I  fed  so 
long  upon  hope  till  I  had  almost  'starved,'"  i.  621. 

The  leaf-joy  view  may  be  reflected  in  the  lines, 

Their's  [i.e.  their  travel]  is  sweetened  with  the  hope  to  have 

The  present  benefit  which  I  possess  ; 

And  hope  to  joy  is  little  less  in  joy 

Than  Hope  cnjoy'd. 

{Rich.  II.  II.  in.  15). 

in    which  the  word-play,    hope  to  joy,  less  in  joy,   hope 
enjoyed — is  peculiarly  Baconian. 

But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  these  correspon- 


PROLONGATION    OF    LIFE    BY    HOPE.  IO5 

dences  in  this  part  of  the  subject  is  that  in  which  Bacon's 
idea  of  hope  as  prolonging  hfe  is  repeated  by  Shakespeare. 
Richard  II.,  in  his  despair,  is  ready  to  welcome  death,  but 
cannot  find  it  as  long  as  hope  remains, 

I  will  despair,  and  be  at  enmity 

With  cozening  hope  :  he  is  -a.  flatterer^ 

A  parasite,  a  keeper  back  of  death, 

Who  gently  would  dissolve  the  bands  of  life, 

Which /rt/st'  liopc  lingers  in  extremity. 

(Richard  77.  II.  ii.  68). 

So  also  when  Lord  Rivers  brings  to  Elizabeth,  Queen  of 
Edward  IV.,  "News  full  of  grief,"  he  suggests  the  con- 
jectural hope  that, 

Warwick  may  lose,  that  now  hath  won  the  day. 

a  solace  which  the  Queen  accepts,  because  she  desires  to 
live  that  Edward's  unborn  son  may  also  live. 

Till  then/cj/r  liope  must  liinder  life's  decay. 

(3  Henry  VI.  IV.  iv.  13). 

Claudio  accepts  the  same  prescription, 

The  miserable  have  no  other  medicine 
But  only  hope. 

(Meas.forMcas.lll.i.2). 

The  flattery  of  hope  has  been  referred  to  in  some  of  the 
passages  already  quoted,  as  well  as  the  food  it  supplies  to 
maintain  health  and  prolong  life.  ' '  Doth  any  man  doubt," 
says  Bacon,  in  the  first  of  his  Essays, — of  "Truth,"  "  That 
if  there  were  taken  out  of  men's  minds  vain  opimons,  flatter- 
ing hopes,  false  valuations,  imaginations  as  one  would,  and 
the  like,  but  it  would  leave  the  minds  of  a  number  of  men 
poor,  shrunken  things,  full  of  melancholy  and  indisposition, 
and  unpleasing  to  themselves."  This  kind  of  artificial 
feeding  on  hope  is  much  to  the  taste  of  such  dreaming 
speculators  as  the  Alchemists.  "  For  the  Alchemist  nurses 
eternal  hope,  .  .  .  and  when  among  the  chances  of  experi- 
ment he  lights  upon  some  conclusions  either  in  aspect  new, 


I06         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

or  for  utility  not  contemptible,  he  takes  these  for  earnest  of 
what  is  to  come,  and  feeds  his  mind  upon  them,  and  magnifies 
them  to  the  most,  and  supplies  the  rest  in  hope."  {Novum 
Organum,  I.  85). 

This  sort  of  diet,  Bacon  notes,  is  useful  for  exiles,  Spes 
alit  exsules.  (Promus  561),  and  Gaunt  prescribes  it,  with 
much  detail  of  the  dishes  that  furnish  this  diet,  for  his 
banished  son,  Bolingbroke.  Quite  a  group  of  "flattering 
hopes,  false  valuations  and  imagination  of  things  as  one 
would"  is  collected  in  this  homily  for  an  exile.  The 
passage  is  too  long  for  quotation.    {Rich.  II.  I.  iii.  258—303). 

When  Valentine  is  banished,  the  same  nourishment  is 
offered  to  him  by  the  treacherous  Proteus  : — 

Hope  is  a  lover's  staff  ;  walk  hence  with  that, 
And  manage  it  against  despairing  thoughts. 

{Two  Gent.  Ver.  III.  i.  246.) 

Bacon  in  one  of  his  apophthegms  tells  a  story,  the  moral 
of  which  is,  "  Hope  is  a  good  breakfast,  but  a  bad  supper." 

The  visionary,  imaginative  quality  of  Hope  brings  it  into 
relation  with  opiates,  sleep  and  dreams.  In  the  preface 
to  the  unwritten  discourse  on  the  Sympathy  and  Antipathy 
of  things  the  following  curious  passage  is  found  : — 

"This  part  of  Philosophy  is  very  corrupt  ;  and  (as  is  al- 
most always  the  case),  there  being  but  little  diligence  there 
has  been  too  much  hope.  The  effect  of  hope  on  the  mind 
of  man  is  very  like  the  working  of  some  soporific  drugs, 
which  not  only  induce  sleep,  but  fill  it  with  joyous  and 
pleasing  dreams.  For  first  it  throws  the  human  mind 
into  a  sleep,  .  .  .  and  then  it  insinuates  and  infuses  into  it 
innumerable  fancies  like  so  many  dreams."  (Works,  V.  203). 

The  hopes  which  centre  about  princes,  heirs  apparent, 
expectants  of  sovereignty,  illustrate  this.  Bacon  takes  up 
this  parable  in  one  of  his  discourses :  he  unfolds  the 
hidden  wisdom  of  Solomon's  saying,  "/  considered  all  the 
living  which  walk  under  the  sun,  with  the  second  child  who 
shall  arise  in  his  stead.     This  proverb  remarks  upon  the 


WAKING    DREAMS.  I07 

vanity  of  men,  who  are  wont  to  crowd  about  the  appointed 
heirs  of  princes.  The  root  hereof  is  in  that  madness,  deeply 
implanted  by  nature  in  human  minds,  of  being  too  fond  of 
their  own  hopes.  For  there  is  scarcely  anyone  but  takes 
more  delight  in  what  he  hopes  for  than  in  what  he  has. 
Novelty  also  is  very  pleasing  to  man,  and  is  eagerly  sought 
for.  Now  in  a  prince's  heir  hope  and  novelty  are  com- 
bined. And  this  proverb  implies  the  same  as  that  which 
was  said  of  old,  first  by  Pompey  to  Sylla,  and  afterwards 
by  Tiberius  respecting  Macro  :  '  That  there  be  more  who 
worship  the  rising  than  the  setting  sun.'  And  yet  princes 
are  not  much  disturbed  at  this,  nor  do  they  care  much  for 
it,  as  neither  Sylla  nor  Tiberius  did  ;  but  they  rather  scorn 
the  fickleness  of  mankind,  and  do  not  care  to  strive  with 
dreams :  and  hope,  as  was  said,  is  but  the  dream  of 
a  waking  man."  [De  Augmentis  VIII.  ii.  ;  Works, 
V.  48).  Curiously  enough  the  same  sentiment,  illustrated 
by  the  same  allusion  is  uttered  by  the  cynical  misanthrope 
in  Timon,  Apemantus,  who  gives  voice  to  sentiments  such 
as  must  have  haunted  Bacon's  mind  after  his  fall : — 

We  spend  our  flatteries  to  drink  those  men, 
Upon  whose  age  we  void  it  up  again.      .     .     . 
I  should  fear  those  that  dance  before  me  now 
Would  one  day  stamp  upon  me :  't  has  been  done  : 
Men  sliut  their  doors  against  a  setting  sun. 

(Timon  I.,  ii.  142.) 

The  same  tendency  to  listen  to  flatteries  of  hope  is 
characteristic  of  love — is  one  of  its  many  follies.  It  is 
equally  irrational  whether  it  believes  and  hopes  too  much 
or  too  little  : — • 

O  hard-believing  love,  how  strange  it  seems 
Not  to  believe,  and  yet  too  credulous  ! 
Thy  weal  and  woe  are  both  of  them  extremes, 
Despair  and  hope  makes  thee  ridiculous  : 
The  one  doth  flatter  thee  in  thoughts  unlikely ; 
In  likelv  thoughts  the  other  kills  thee  quickh'. 

(V.  A.  985.) 


I08  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Alonso,  thinking  his  son  has  been  drowned,  abandons 
the  hopes  which  have  deceived  him  : — 

Even  here  I  will  put  off  my  hope,  and  keep  it 

No  longer  for  my  flatterer.  {Temp,  III.,  iii.  7.) 

Bacon,  however,  not  only  admits,  but  sedulously 
cultivates  that  kind  of  reasonable  hope  that  is  not  con- 
jectural or  imaginative,  but  rests  on  well  ascertained  facts. 
In  the  Novum  Organum  I.  92 — ii|,  he  dilates  largely  on 
the  "grounds  of  hope  "  for  the  progress  of  science.  He  is, 
however,  careful  to  put  aside  the  "lighter  breezes  of 
hope,"  and  "bring  men  to  particulars."  And  these  are 
discussed  in  the  twenty-three  Axioms  referred  to.  The 
"lighter  breezes  of  hope"  (92)  are  evidently  the  same  as 
"the  tender  leaves  of  hope,"  whose  blighting  by  "  a  frost," 
a  "killing  frost"  is  so  pathetically  described  in  Henry 
VIII.  III.  ii.  353.  Such  failure  of  hope  is  described  also  in 
AWs  Well,  the  King  having  tried  all  known  remedies  for 
his  apparently  incurable  disease.  "  He  hath  abandoned 
his  physicians,  under  whose  practices  he  hath  persecuted 
time  with  hope,  and  finds  no  other  advantage  in  the 
process,  but  only  the  losing  of  hope  by  time."  {All's  Well, 
I.  i.  15). 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  echoes  of  Bacon's  most 
singular  and  original  sentiments,  which  I  have  pointed  out 
in  Shakespeare,  are  most  remarkable.  Vernon  Lee's 
"  Baconian  thoughts  in  Baconian  language  "  are  not  to  be 
mistaken,  and  the  significance  of  this  exact  and  curious 
correspondence  cannot  fail  to  impress  all  fair  minded  and 
careful  students. 

This  philosophy  of  "  Hope,"  which  is  equally  character- 
istic of  Bacon  and  Shakespeare,  is  not  a  set  of  common- 
place notions,  floating  in  the  air,  any  man's  property  who 
chooses  to  pick  them  up.  They  are  so  strange  and 
individual,  so  peculiar  and  startling,  that  even  Spedding 
was  half  scandalized  by  them.  Bacon's  mind,  and  surely 
also  Bacon's  hand  is  equally  to  be  recognized  in  both  the 
prose  and  poetry. 


log 


CHAPTER      VIII. 

BACON'S    SARTOR    RESARTUS. 

One  of  Bacon's  most  characteristic  maxims  is  that, 
behaviour  is  rather  external  to  the  mind  than  a  part  of  its 
essence.  It  may  be  assumed  {i.e.  taken  up),  imitated, 
worn  as  a  garment,  put  on  or  put  off,  altered,  or  varied 
according  as  mood  or  circumstances,  or  convenience,  or 
policy,  or  fashion  may  suggest.  It  is  dress,  not  flesh  ;  a 
garment,  not  a  cuticle. 

The  earliest  expression  of  this  idea  is  to  be  found  in  a 
long  and  thoughtful  letter  written  to  the  Earl  of  Rutland 
in  1595-6.  The  Earl  was  about  to  travel,  and  Bacon  wrote 
three  letters  of  advice  to  help  him  to  make  the  best  use  of 
his  foreign  experiences.  It  is  worth  noting,  as  bearing  on 
Bacon's  very  usual  habit  of  writing  under  other  names 
than  his  own,  that  these  letters  were  written  over  the  name 
of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  sent  to  Rutland  by  the  Earl  as 
his  own  composition.  They  are  published  in  Devereux's 
Memoirs  of  the  Earls  of  Essex  (1852).  I  have  already  (see 
p.  37)  referred  to  the  fact  that  Spedding  was  the  first  to 
assign  these  very  remarkable  letters  to  Bacon  as  their  true 
author.  He  proves  his  case,  partly  by  the  incommunicable 
evidence  of  flavour, — tasting  the  style, — partly  by  com- 
paring both  the  ideas  and  the  terms  in  which  they  are 
expressed,  with  analogous  sentiments  and  identical  phrases- 
in  Bacon's  acknowledged  writings. 

In  the  first  of  these  letters  we  find  the  following : — 
"Behaviour  is  but  a  garment,  and  it  is  easy  to  make 
a  comely  garment  for  a  body  that  is  itself  well-pro- 
portioned.      Whereas  a  deformed  body  can. never  be  so. 


no  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

helped  by  tailor's  art,  but  the  counterfeit  will  appear.  And 
in  the  form  of  our  mind  it  is  a  true  rule,  that  a  man  may 
mend  his  faults  with  as  little  labour  as  cover  them." 
("Life,"  II.,  8).  The  idea  is  more  elaborated  in  the 
"Advancement  ■'  (II.  xxiii.  3);  and  in  the  Dc 
Augmentis  (VIII.  i.).  "Behaviour  is  as  the  garment  of 
the  mind,  and  ought  to  have  the  conditions  of  a  garment. 
For  first,  it  ought  to  be  made  in  fashion  ;  secondly,  it 
•ought  not  to  be  too  curious  or  costly  ;  thirdly,  it  ought  to 
be  so  framed  as  to  best  set  forth  any  virtue  of  the  mind, 
and  supply  and  hide  any  deformity  ;  lastly,  and  above  all, 
it  ought  not  to  be  too  strait,  so  as  to  confine  the  mind  and 
interfere  with  its  freedom  in  business  and  action." 

The  last  sentence  of  the  Essay  of  "Ceremonies  and 
Respects,"  introduces  another  allusion  to  dress  or 
costume  : — "  Men's  behaviour  should  be  like  their  apparel, 
not  too  strait  or  point  device,  but  free  for  exercise  or 
motion." 

Bacon  has  a  Promus  note  (1439)  which  seems  to  refer  to 
this  idea,  but  it  is  cryptically  expressed,  and  probably 
meant  for  no  other  eye  than  his  own.  It  runs,  "  The  ayre 
■of  his  behavior:  fashions."  Mrs.  Pott  probably  puts  a 
right  construction  on  this  entry  by  comparing  it  with  the 
following  passages  in  Shakespeare  : — "  I  am  a  courtier. 
Seest  thou  not  the  air  of  the  Court  in  these  enfoldings  ? 
Hath  not  my  gait  in  it  the  measure  of  the  Court  ? " 
■{Winter s  Tale  IV.  iv.  755).  "  Promising  is  the  very  air  of 
the  time."  {Tiiiion  V.  i.  24).  These  passages  refer  to  both 
behaviour  and  fashion  as  part  of  any  one's  costume,  or 
outward  enfoldings,  or  investment. 

The  general  principle,  that  behaviour  is  a  garment,  so 
•compactly  expressed  in  Bacon's  prose,  is  a  seed  that 
blossoms  and  bears  abundant  fruit  in  Shakespeare's  poetry. 
It  is  emphatically  the  aphorism  of  dramatic  art,  the  very 
key-note  of  histrionic  performance,  whether  on  the  stage 
or  elsewhere,  and  the  allusions  to  it  are  very  numerous  in 
.Shakespeare. 


BEHAVIOUR    A    PART    OF    DRESS.  Ill 

First  of  all,  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  the  language  of  the 
wardrobe  is  applied  to  behaviour  or  deportment  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  way.  The  quality  indicated  by  point 
device  is  referred  to  by  Rosalind  in  such  a  way  as  to  apply 
equally  to  dress  and  to  conduct :  she  comments  on  the 
absence  in  Orlando  of  any  of  the  indications  of  "careless 
desolation "  which  a  lover  ought  to  show — indications 
belonging  both  to  behaviour,  and  appearance,  and  cos- 
tume ;  and  she  sums  up  with:  —  "You  are  rather  point 
device  in  your  accoutrements,  as  loving  yourself  than 
seeming  the  lover  of  any  other,"  (See  As  You  Like  It 
III.  ii.  387-403).  This  expression,  point  device,  is  to  be 
found  in  Love's  Labour  Lost  V.  i.  21,  applied  to  conduct, 
not  to  dress.  It  evidently  means  spruce,  dandified, 
exquisite,  and  though  referring  to  dress,  includes 
behaviour. 

Bacon's  idea  is,  however,  expressed  in  the  most  direct 
and  unmistakable  way  by  Portia,  who  makes  a  sort  of 
inventory  of  the  garments  of  one  of  her  suitors,  and  one 
article  of  his  attire  is  "behaviour": — "How  oddly  he's 
suited"  {i.e.  clothed).  "  I  think  he  bought  his  doublet  in 
Italy,  his  round  hose  in  France,  his  bonnet  in  Germany, 
and  his  behaviour  everyvuhere."  {Merchant  of  Venice  I. 
ii.  79). 

The  general  idea  connecting  behaviour  as  such  with 
dress  is  implied  in  the  following  passage,  where  Bacon's 
suggestion  that  fashion  may  be  concerned  in  the  selection 
of  these  garments  is  also  implied  : — 

Let  not  the  world  see  fear  and  sad  distrust 
Govern  the  motion  of  a  kingly  eye  : 
Be  stirring  as  the  time ;  be  lire  with  fire  ; 
Threaten  the  threatener,  and  outface  the  brow 
Of  bragging  horror  ;  so  shall  inferior  eyes, 
That  hoi  row  their  behaviours  fiom  the  great, 
Grow  great  by  your  example,  and  ////  on 
The  dauntless  spirit  of  resolution. 

{King  -John  V.  i.  46). 


112  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Queen  Katherine,  speaking  to  the  two  Cardinals,  has  the 
same  philosophy  in  her  mind  : — 

If  you  have  any  justice,  any  pity, 

If  ye  be  anything  but  Cliiircliiiicn's  habits, — 

{Hen.  VIII.  111.  I  ii6). 

Malvolio  is  encouraged  to  present  himself  before  Olivia, 
his  lady,  with  "  A  sad  {i.e.  grave)  face,  a  reverent  carriage, 
a  slow  tongue,  in  the  habit  of  some  Sir  of  note."  {Twelfth- 
Night  III.  iv.  80).  These  are  garments  which  he  is  to  put 
on,  and  thus  cast  away  an  inferior  garment,  viz.  —  "his 
humble  slough."  The  twin  brother  and  sister,  in  the  same 
play,  have  "one  face,  one  voice,  one  habit,  and  two 
persons."  (76.  V.  i.  223).  Here  the  ambiguous  word 
habit  may  refer  either  to  dress  or  behaviour,  and  is  doubt- 
less intended  to  include  both. 

Without  special  comment,  the  following  specimens  may 
be  added  : — 

Opinion's  but  a  fool,  that  makes  us  scan 
TIic  out-ward  habit  by  the  inward  man. 

{Per id.  II.  ii.  56). 

This  man,  so  complete,   .  .  . 
Hath  into  monstrous  habits  put  the  graces, 
That  once  were  his,  and  is  become  as  black 
As  if  besmear'd  in  hell. 

{Hen.  VIII.  I.  ii.  122). 

O  place,  O  form. 
How  often  dost  thou  witli  thy  case,  thy  habit, 
Wrench  awe  from  fools,  and  tie  the  wiser  souls 
To  thy  false  seeming. 

{Meas  for  Meas.  II.  iv.  12). 

And  every  lovely. organ  of  her  life 
Shall  come  apparetl'd  in  more  precious  habit. 
More  moving-delicate,  and  full  of  life, 
Into  the  eye  and  prospect  of  his  soul. 
Than  when  she  lived  indeed. 

{M.  Ado  IV.  i.  226). 

Looking   a   little   more  carefully  we  may  find  several 


GARMENT    OF    MADNESS  :    OF    STATE.  II3 

varieties  of  this  costume,  which  may  be  put  off  and  on  at 
the  pleasure  of  the  wearer. 

1.  Madness  or  Folly : — Hamlet  tells  his  friends  that  he 
may  find  it  necessary  to  counterfeit  madness,  and  warns 
them  not  to  betray  him, — 

How  strange  or  odd  soe'er  I  bear  myself 
As  I  perchance  hereafter  shall  think  meet 
To  put  an  antic  disposition  on. 

(Ham.  I.  V.  170J. 

The  dress  of  assumed  madness  was  also  worn  by  Brutus, 
the  friend  of  Lucretius. 

He  with  the  Romans  was  esteemed  so 

As  silly,  jeering  idiots  are  witli  kings, 

For  sportive  words  and  uttering  foolish  things. 

But  now  he  throws  that  sJiallow  habit  by 

Wherein  deep  policy  did  Iiiin  disguise. 

(Lucrece,  18 11). 

Touchstone  wears  a  somewhat  similar  garment  ;  the 
banished  Duke  says  of  him,  "He  uses  his  folly  like  a 
stalking  horse  and  under  the  presentation  of  that  he  shoots 
his  wit."  {As  You  Like  It,  V.  iv.  iii).  The  stalking  horse 
was  of  course  a  mask  or  disguise,  a  garment  worn  by  the 
fowler,  under  cover  of  which  he  could  approach  his  game 
and  shoot  at  an  advantage ;  and  Jacques  is  willing  to 
wear  a  suit  of  motley  in  order  that  he  may  comment  with 
unrestrained  freedom  on  the  follies  and  foibles  of  society. 
(See^s  Yoii  Like  It,  II.  vi.  41-61). 

2.  State  and  Pride  is  the  garment  which  Brutus,  throwing 
aside  the  shallow  habit  of  folly,  wears  as  a  substitute  : — 

Brutus,  who  pluck'd  the  knife  from  Lucrece  side, 
Seeing  such  emulation  in  their  woe. 
Began  to  ctotlic  liis  wit  in  state  and  pride, 
Burying  in  Lucrece'  wound  his  folly's  show. 

{Lucrece,  1807). 

The  garment  of  state  and  pride  was  one  of  many  costumes 
that  Henry  IV.  wore.     His  presence  was 


114  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Like  a  robe  pontifical.  (i  Hen.  IV.  III.  ii.  56). 

Pride  is  also  worn  and  the  wearer  takes  delight  in  the 
reflected  contemplation  of  it, 

Pride  haih  no  otiier  glass 
To  show  itself  but  pride. 

{Trail.  Cress.  III.  iii.  47). 

The  wardrobe  conceit  is  rarely,  or  perhaps  never,  lost  sight 
of  either  in  Bacon's  philosophy  of  behaviour,  or  in  Shake- 
speare's pictures  thereof. 

3.  Sobriety  or  sadness,  i.e.,  gravity,  is  the  garment  which 
Gratiano  promises  to  wear  when  he  visits  Portia, 

If  I  do  not  ////  on  a  sober  habit,     .     .     . 

Like  one,  well  studied,  in  a  sad  ostent, 

To  please  his  grandam,  never  trust  me  more. 

(Mer.  Ven.  II.  ii.  199). 

Sad  ostent  is  a  curiously  ambiguous  phrase,  the  double 
entendre  includes  a  great  variety  of  outward  forms  of  sober 
expression,  both  in  dress,  and  in  conduct. 

Gravity  in  the  form  of  apathetic  or  phlegmatic  indiffer- 
ence is  represented  as  put  on :  Brutus  and  Cassius  are 
talking  about  Casca, 

Brutns. — What  a  blunt  fellow  is  this  grown  to  be  ! 

He  was  quick  mettle  when  he  went  to  school. 
Cassius. — So  is  he  now,  in  execution 

Of  any  bold  or  noble  enterprise, 

However  he  puts  on  this  tardy  form. 

{Jul.  Ca's.  I.  ii.  299.) 

Orlando  "put  on  the  countenance  of  stern  commandment.'' 

{As  You  Like  It  U.  vii.  108.) 

4.  Mirth  is  the  garment  which  Bassiano  wishes  Gratiano 
to  wear,  instead  of  gloom  ;  it  is  thus  he  is  "  suited  "  : — 

No,  that  were  pity  ; 
I  would  entreat  you  rather  to  put  on 
Your  boldest  suit  of  mirth. 

{Mer.  Ven.  II.  ii.  209.) 


GARMENT    OF    PIUMILITY  :    OF   VIRTUE.  II5 

5.  Humility  is  a  garment  which  Coriolanus  tried  to  put 
on,  but  could  not  make  it  fit,  and  he  very  soon  cast  it 
aside.  Brutus,  one  of  the  tribunes,  thus  describes  the 
attempt : — 

I  heard  him  swear, 
Were  he  to  stand  for  consul,  never  would  he 
Appear  i'  the  market-place,  nor  on  him  put 
Tlic  napless  vesture  of  liuniility. 

{Cor.  II.  i.  247.) 

But  he  makes  the  attempt,  and 

With  a  proud  heart  lie  wore  Jiis  Innnble  zveeds. 

{lb.  II.  i.  161.) 

The  visible  garment  of  humility  was  simply  put  on  ;  his 
proper  costume  was  arrogance  and  pride,  Henry  IV.  was 
more  politic  :^ 

I  stole  all  courtesy  from  heaven, 
And  dtess'd  myself  in  such  humility, 
That  I  did  pluck  allegiance  from  men's  hearts. 

(i  Hen.  /F.  III.  ii.  50.) 

He  selected  the  garment  of  humility  as  one  best  adapted  for 
him  to  wear,  as  a  king  of  doubtful  title,  for  whom  it  was 
necessary  that  he  should  "  pluck  allegiance  from  men's 
hearts." 

The  special  garment  which  represents  humility  is  named 
by  the  clown  in  AlVs  Well.  "  Though  honesty  be  no 
Puritan  yet  it  will  do  no  hurt  ;  it  will  wear  the  surplice  of 
humility  over  the  black  gown  of  a  big  heart."  {All's  Well, 
I.  iii.  97). 

6.  Virttie  may  be  worn  as  a  garment  and  is  often  put  on 
as  a  mask  for  villany,  or  as  a  hypocritical  semblance  of 
what  does  not  exist.  The  counsel,  which  Luciana  gives  to 
Antipholus  of  Syracuse,  thinking  she  is  addressing  Anti- 
pholus  of  Ephesu?,  is  full  of  imagery  derived  from  the 
■clothes  philosophy  : — 

Alutfie  your  false  love  with  some  show  of  blindness  .  .  . 


Il6  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Look  sweet ;  speak  fair  ;  become  dislo3'alt)'  ; 
Apparel  vice,  like  virtue's  harbinger  ; 
Bear  a  fair  presence,  though  your  heart  be  tainted  ; 
Teach  sin  tlic  carriage  of  a  holy  saint,  .  .  . 
Though  others  have  the  arm,  s/zac  ns  the  sleeve. 

(Sec  Com.  Er.  III.  ii.  i— 28.) 

Hamlet  preaches  the  same  philosophy  to  his  mother  : — 

Assume  a  virtue,  if  you  have  it  not. 

That  monster,  custom,  who  all  sense  doth  eat. 

Of  habits  devil,  is  angel  yet  in  this, 

That  to  tlie  use  of  actions  fair  and  good 

He  likewise  gives  afrocJi  or  livery, 

That  aptly  is  put  on  .  .  . 

For  use  almost  can  change  the  stamp  of  nature. 

{Ham.  III.  iv.  160.) 

So  Imogen,  smarting  under  her  husband's  false  accusa- 
tion, thinks  that  all  virtue  is  but  an  appearance,  and  that 
suspicion  may  taint  the  holiest : — 

All  good  seeming, 

By  thy  revolt,  O  husband,  shall  be  thought 

Put  on  for  villany,  not  born  iclicrcl  gjvws, 

But  icorn,  a  bait  for  ladies. 

{Cymb.  III.  iv.  56.) 

Abhorson's  mystery  expresses  itself  in  the  Delphic 
utterance  : — 

"  Every  true  man's  apparel  fits  your  thief  :  if  it  be  too  little  for 
your  thief,  your  true  man  thinks  it  big  enough  ;  if  it  be  too  big  for 
vour  thief,  your  thief  thinks  it  little  enough  ;  so  every  true  man's 
apparel  fits  3'our  thief."     {Meas.  for  Meas.  IV.  ii.  46.) 

"  Which   thing    is  an  allegory,"   and  its  solution  can  be 
found  only  in  Bacon's  philosophy  of  behaviour. 

7.  Content  can  also  be  worn  as  a  garment  by  the  dis- 
contented. Cassio,  if  he  knows  that  he  cannot  regain 
Othello's  favour, — 

But  to  know  so  must  be  my  benefit. 
So  shall  I  ilotlic  me  in  a  forced  content. 

{0th.  III.  iv.  119.) 


sanctity:  love:  strangeness.  117 

8.  Sanctity  is  a  robe  which  the  vilest  may  put  on  : 

Oh,  'tis  the  cunning  livery  of  hell, 

The  damned'st  body  to  invest  and  covet 

In  prenzie  guards. 

{Meas.for  Meas.  III.  i-  95.) 

Strike  me  the  counterfeit  matron. 

It  is  her  liabii  only  tliat  is  honest, 

Herself 's  a  bawd. 

{Tiinon  IV.  iii.  112.) 

g.  Love  has  a  large  wardrobe  of  different  garments  : 
•It  is 

Full  of  strange  shapes,  of  habits,  and  of  forms 
Varying  in  subjects  as  the  eye  doth  roll 
To  every  varied  object  in  his  glance  : 
Which  parti-coated  presence  of  loose  love. 
Put  on  by  us,  if  in  your  heavenly  eyes. 
Have  misbecom'd  our  oaths  and  gravities,  etc. 

{Love's  Labour's  Lost  V.  ii.  773.) 

10.  Strangeness,  or  behaving  like  a  stranger  instead  of  a 
friend,  is  the  garment  which  Achilles  wore,  and  of  which 
i\gamemnon  makes  bitter  complaint. 

Worthier  than  himself 

Here  tend  the  savage  strangeness  he  puts  on. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  iii.  134., 

When  anyone  modestly  keeps  his  own  gifts  in  the  back- 
ground he  puts  on  strangeness  : — 

It  is  the  witness  still  of  excellency 

To  put  a  strange  face  on  his  own  perfection. 

(il/.  Ado  II.  iii.  48.) 

Many  of  these  passages  illustrate  a  sort  of  offshoot  of 
this  philosophy  of  behaviour,  which  is  certainly  a  reflec- 
tion of  Platonic  Philosophy.  As  a  garment  may  be 
imitated,  so  it  may  be  reflected  in  a  glass  or  mirror,  and  so 
the  wearer  may  see  the  garment  which  he  wears.  The 
glass  which  the  Platonic  poet  generally  refers  to  is  the 
same  garment  worn  by  others  ;  and  anyone  who  wears  a 


Il8         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

fantastic  garment  may  be  taught  how  fantastic  it  is  by 
seeing  it,  as  in  a  glass,  worn  by  another.  The  philo- 
sophical axiom, 

Pride  hath  no  other  glass 
To  shew  itseU",  but  pride. 

{Tro.  Cr.  III.  iii.  47.) 

has  been  already  quoted.  Here  it  illustrates  a  collateral 
branch  of  the  Baconian  philosophy. 

The  strangeness  which  Achilles  wore  is  similarly  re- 
flected in  the  glass  of  imitation.  By  this  artifice  his  own 
pride  is  shewn  to  him.     (See  Tro.  Cres.,  Ill,  iii,  38 — 53.) 

The  figure  of  a  glass  and  that  of  a  garment  are  thus 
closely  connected.  Conduct,  our  philosophic  poet  says,  is 
regulated  by  imitation.  We  unconsciously  imitate  those 
with  whom  we  associate.  Those,  who  are  inferior,  dress 
in  behaviour  as  well  as  in  costume,  like  their  betters. 
They 

Borrow  their  beliaviours  from  the  great. 

(Jo////  V.  i.  51.) 

And  those  who  set  the  fashion  are  described  as  the  glass 
before  which  others  dress.  Thus,  Hamlet  is  spoken  of  by 
Ophelia  as — 

The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form, 
The  observed  of  all  observers. 

{Ham.  III.  i.  161). 

Leonatus  is — 

A  sample  to  the  3'oungest,  to  the  more  mature 

A  glass  ilvciif cated  them. 

{Cymb.  I.  i.  48). 

Feaied  being  equivalent  to  "formed,  fashioned,  moulded" 
(Dyce).  Lady  Percy  speaks  in  the  same  way  of  her 
deceased  lord,  the  brave  Hotspur,  and  she  also,  like 
Portia,  gives  a  sort  of  inventory  of  the  garments  which  he 
wore  in  his  behaviour,  and  which  others  put  on  by  imita- 
tion, dressing  themselves  at  his  glass. 


THE    GLASS    OF    BEHAVIOUR.  II9 

He  was  indeed  the  glass 
Wliereiii  the  noble  youth  did  dress  themselves; 
He  had  no  legs  that  practised  not  his  gait; 
And  speaking  thick,  which  nature  made  his  blemish, 
Became  the  accents  of  the  valiant,  .... 

So  that  in  speech,  in  gait, 

In  diet,  in  affections  of  delight, 

In  military  rules,  humours  of  blood. 

He  was  the  mark  and  glass,  copy  and  book. 

That  fashioned  others. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  II.  iii.  21). 

The  philosophic  principle,  on  which  all  this  poetry  is  con- 
sciously founded,  is  given  in  dry,  scientific  statement, 
without  dramatic  illustration,  in  Bacon's  prose.  Com- 
menting on  Proverbs  xxvii.  ig,  "  As  the  face  is  reflected  in 
the  water,  so  is  the  heart  of  man  manifest  to  the  wise,"  he 
writes  : — "  Here  is  distinguished  between  the  mind  of  a 
wise  man  and  that  of  others  ;  the  former  being  compared 
to  water,  or  a  glass,  which  represents  the  forms  and  images 
of  things  ;  the  other  to  the  earth,  or  an  unpolished  stone, 
which  give  no  reflection.  And  this  comparison  of  the 
mind  of  a  wise  man  to  a  glass  is  the  more  proper,  because 
in  a  glass  he  can  see  his  own  image,  together  with  the 
images  of  others,  which  the  eye  itself  without  a  glass 
cannot  do.  But  if  the  mind  of  a  wise  man  is  sufficiently 
large  to  observe  and  distinguish  an  infinite  variety  of  dis- 
positions and  characters,  it  only  remains  to  take  care  that 
the  application  be  as  various  as  the  representation.  '  A 
wise  man  will  know  how  to  adapt  himself  to  all  sorts  of 
characters.'"     {De  Aug.  VIII.  ii.     Prov.  xxxiv.) 

"It  is  best  wisdom  in  any  man  in  his  own  matters  to 
rest  in  the  wisdom  of  a  friend  ;  for  who  can,  by  often 
looking  in  the  glass,  discern  and  judge  so  well  of  his 
own  favor,  as  another  with  whom  he  converseth." 
Letter  to  Essex     ("  Life  "  I.  235). 

"  The  second  way  (to  attain  experience  of  forms  or 
behaviour)  is  by  imitation.  And  to  that  end  good  choice 
is  to  be  made  of  those  with  whom  you  converse  ;  there- 


120         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

fore  3'our  Lordship  should  affect  their  company  whom 
you  find  to  be   the  worthiest,    and    not   partially*   think 

them   most  w^orthy  whom  you   affect When  you 

see  infinite  variety  of  behaviour  and  manners  of  men,  you 
may  choose  and  imitate  the  best.  (Letter  to  Rutland. 
"Life"  II.   8-10). 

The  striking  resemblance  between  these  sentiments  and 
those  expressed  many  times  in  Shakespeare  must  be 
obvious  to  any  careful  student. 

Since  j'ou  cannot  see  yourself 

So  well  as  by  reflection,  I,  your  glass, 

Will  modestly  discover  to  yourself 

That  of  yourself  whicli  you  yet  know  not  of. 

{'Jul.  Civs.  II.  i.  67). 

The  beauty  that  is  borne  here  in  the  face 
The  bearer  knows  not,  but  commends  itself 
To  others'  eyes  ;  nor  doth  the  eye  itself. 
That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense,  behold  itself, 
Not  going  from  itself ;  but  eye  to  eye  opposed 
Salutes  each  other  with  each  other's  form  : 
For  speculation  turns  not  to  itself, 
Till  it  hath  travelled,  and  is  mirror 'd  there. 
Where  it  may  see  itself. 

{Tro.  Cr.  III.  iii.  103 j. 

Well,  Brutus,  tliou  art  noble  :  yet  I  see 
Thy  honourable  mettle  may  be  wrought 
From  that  it  is  disposed.     Therefore  'tis  meet 
That  noble  minds  keep  ever  with  their  likes  ; 
For  wlio  so  wise  that  cannot  be  seduced  ? 

{'Jul.  Cns.  I.  ii.  312). 

And  Bacon  himself  might  have  put  the  following  into 
his  "Essays" — as,  indeed,  he  has  done  in  other  words. 
Falstaff  in  delivering  a  genuine  Baconian  Essay,  says, 

It  is  certain  that  either  wise  bearing  or  ignorant  carriage  is  caught, 

■*Men's  faults  do  seldom  to  themselves  appear  ; 
Their  own  transgressions  partially  they  smother. 

{Ijtcrcce  633). 


THE    PRINCE    IN    MASQUERADE.  121 

as  men  take  diseases,  one  of  another.     Therefore,  let  men  take  heed 
of  their  company. — 2  Hen.  IV.  V.  (last  long  speech}. 

Bacon's  conception  of  behaviour  as  a  garment,  a  loose- 
fitting,  changeable  vestment,  must  be  kept  in  mind  if  we 
would  understand  Shakespeare's  picture  of  Prince  Hal,  the 
young  prince,  who  is  outwardly  wild,  but  really  serious, 
ready  as  soon  as  the  time  comes  to  wear  the  royal  robes,  as 
Henry  V.,  with  wisdom  and  majesty.  The  psychological 
enigma  involved  in  this  sudden  change  has  been  a 
stumbling-block  to  many  readers,  and  to  most  critics. 
The  solution  is  evidentl}'  to  be  found  in  Bacon's  clothes 
philosophy,  which  the  prince  uses  in  the  account  he  gives 
of  himself:  — 

Herein  will  I  imitate  the  sun, 
Who  doth  permit  the  base  contagious  clouds 
To  smother  up  his  beauty  from  the  world  ;  .  .  . 
But  when  this  loose  behaviour  I  throw  of,  .  .  . 
By  liow  much  better  than  my  word  I  am, 
By  so  much  shall  I  falsify  men's  hopes. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  I.  ii.  221). 

Note  here,  the  ambiguous,  or  rather  double  meanmg  of 
the  word  loose — one  meaning  from  the  clothes  philosophy, 
the  other  from  ethics  —  changeable  or  disorderly.  The 
same  ambiguity  is  found  in  the  use  of  the  same  word  in  a 
passage  already  quoted  from  Love's  Labour's  Lost  V.  ii. 
776. 

Which  parti-coated  presence  of  loose  love. 

This  Apologia  of  the  Prince  shews  that  in  his  wild  days 
he  was  wearing  a  disguise, —  a  strange  dress,  which  he 
could  put  off  as  soon  as  it  had  served  (or  "  suited  ")  his 
purpose.  Even  the  "base  contagious  clouds  "  carry  out 
the  same  idea — they  are  worn  by  the  sun  for  a  time  like  a 
mask,  as  long  as  he  wishes  to  hide  himself. 

There  is  another  very  curious  extension  of  this  clothes 
philosophy.  If  behaviour  is  a  garment,  it  may  be, — and 
probably  is, — not  constructed  by  the  wearer,  but  by  some  one 


122         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

who  represents  his  tailor,  And  there  are  many  passages 
in  which  a  man  is  represented  as  made  by  his  tailor.  This 
is  anticipated,  as  an  undeveloped  fancy,  in  the  letter  to 
Rutland,  already  quoted  :  "A  deformed  body  can  never 
be  so  helped  by  tailor's  art  but  the  counterfeit  will  appear." 
In  Shakespeare  this  reference  to  the  tailor's  art  as  fashion- 
ing the  man  himself  is  always  employed  with  some  degree 
of  contempt  :  the  scorn  for  "counterfeit"  is  apparent. 
This  idea  is  more  or  less  clearly  reflected  in  the  following 
passages : — 

"  Now,  the  melancholy  God  protect  thee  ;  and  the  tailor  make  thy 
doublet  ot  changeable  taffeta  ;  for  thy  mind  is  a  very  opal  "  (Tivclfili 
yighf  II.  iv.  77). 

Taffeta  is  a  kind  of  shot  silk,  changeable  in  its  colour ; 
and  opal  is  "a  gem  which  varies  in  appearance  as  it  is 
viewed  in  different  lights."  (Dyce,  quoting  Steevens). 
Cloten,  the  vulgar  ruffian  prince,  claims  the  homage  due 
to  rank  as  indicated  by  his  clothes ;  and  the  true  prince  in 
rustic  garb,  Guiderius,  detects  the  counterfeit,  and  sees 
only  a  tailor-made  prince  : — 

Cloicii. — Thou  villain  base, 

Know'st  me  not  b}'  my  clothes  ? 

Gitid. — No,  nor  thy  tailor,  rascal, 

Who  is  thy  grandfather  ;  he  made  those  clothes, 
Which,  as  it  seems,  make  thee. 

{Cymb.  IV.  ii.  80). 

So  in  Lear,  Kent,  in  his  scorn  for  Goneril's  steward, 
Oswald,  says. 

You  cowardly  rascal,  nature  disclaims  in  thee  :  a  tailor  made  thee. 
Cornwall. — Thou  art  a  strange  fellow  :  a  tailor  make  a  man  ? 

{Lear  II.  ii.  59). 

As  behaviour  is  a  changeable  fashion,  so  facial  expres- 
sion, as  Bacon  teaches  us,  being  the  most  significant 
element  in  behaviour,  can  be  changed  at  pleasure.  It  can  be 
put  on  or  put  off  like  a  garment.     Bacon  discourses  on  the 


THE    GOVERNMENT    OF    THE    FACE.  I23 

"  government  of  the  face  and  countenance"  as  a  branch  of 
that  part  of  civil  knowledge,  in  which  conversation  is  con- 
cerned. "For,  look  what  an  effect  is  produced  by  the 
countenance  and  the  carriage  of  it.  Well  says  the  poet, 
'  Nee  vultu  destrue  verba  tua. '  (Do  not  falsify  your  words 
by  your  looks).  For  a  man  may  destroy  and  betray  the 
force  of  his  words  by  his  countenance.  ...  So  we  see 
Atticus,  before  the  first  interview  between  Caesar  and 
Cicero,  the  war  still  depending,  carefully  and  serious!}' 
advised  Cicero  touching  the  composing  and  ordering  of 
his  countenance  and  gesture."  And  the  philosophy  of 
behaviour  as  the  garment  of  the  mind  follows  almost  im- 
mediately. See  "  De  Augmentis "  VIII.  i.  The  Latin 
motto  here  quoted  is  twice  entered  in  the  "  Promus " 
(985  and  1026).  And  a  similar  proverb  is  also  noted, 
*'  Vultu  Iceditur  saepe  pietas."  (51).  (A  man's  piety  is  often 
damaged  by  the  expression  of  his  features): — shewing  how 
strong  a  hold  this  sentiment  had  on  Bacon's  m.ind.  All 
this  is  clearly  reflected  in  Shakespeare.  Brutus  wishes  his 
fellow  conspirators  to  employ  this  stratagem  of  the  actor's 
art  : — 

Good  gentlemen,  look  fresh  and  merrily  ! 
Let  not  our  looks  piii  on  our  purposes 
But  bear  it  as  our  Roman  actors  do, 
With  untired  spirits  and  formal  constancy. 

{Julius  Ccesar  II.  i.  224). 

Lady  Macbeth  gives  the  same  counsel  to  her  husband  ; 
every  line  is  redolent  of  the  clothes  philosophy  : — 

Gentle  my  lord,  sleek  o'er  your  rugged  looks  ; 
Be  bright  and  jovial  among  your  guests  to-night. 

Macb. — So  shall  I,  love  :  and  so,  I  pray,  be  you  : 

Let  your  remembrance  apply  to  Banquo  ; 

Present  him  eminence,  both  with  eye  and  tongue  ; 

Unsafe  the  while,  that  we 

Must  lave  our  honours  in  these  flattering  streams, 

And  make  our  faces  vizards  to  our  hearts, 

Disguising  what  they  are. 

{Macb.  III.  ii.  2^). 


124  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Away,  and  mock  the  lime  with  fairest  show  : 

False  face  must  liide  what  the  false  heart  doth  know. 

{lb.  I.  vii.  8i). 

The  Clarendon  Editor  very  aptly  illustrates  the  above 
use  of  the  word  apply  by  the  following  quotation  from 
Bacon's  Essay  of  "Ceremonies,"  where  the  sentiment  ex- 
pressed in  the  text  is  most  exactly  presented  : — 

"To  apply  one's  self  to  others  is  good,  so  it  be  done  with 
demonstration  that  a  man  doeth  it  with  regard,  and  not 
upon  facility,"  which  is  the  same  as  "Present  him  emi- 
nence both  with  eye  and  tongue." 

Very  much  the  same  counsel  is  given  by  the  King  to 
Laertes  when  the  two  are  plotting  together  for  Hamlet's 
assassination  : — 

Weigh  what  convenience  both  of  time  and  means 

May  fit  us  to  our  shape  :  if  this  should  fail, 

And  that  our  drift  look  through  our  bad  performance, 

'Twere  better  not  assay'd  :  therefore  this  project 

Should  have  a  back  or  second,  that  might  hold 

If  this  should  blast  in  proof. 

{Ham.  IV.  vii.  150). 

This  is  strangely  Baconian,  as  Colonel  Moore  has  pointed 
out  (see  "  Bacon  Journal  "  I.  192).  The  same  astute  calcula- 
tion is  thus  described  by  Bacon  : — "  For  in  every  particular 
action  a  man  ought  so  to  direct  and  prepare  his  mind,  and 
should  have  one  intention  so  underlying  and  subordinate 
to  another,  that  if  he  cannot  obtain  his  wishes  in  the  best 
degree,  he  may  yet  be  satisfied  if  he  succeeds  in  a  second 
or  even  a  third."     {De  Augmentis  VIII.  ii.). 

In  all  these  cases,  and  in  countless  others  we  find  a 
philosophic,  scientific,  prosaic  statement  of  the  principles, 
which  live  and  act  in  the  Shakespearian  drama.  Com- 
paring Shakespeare's  art  with  Bacon's  philosophy,  we  find 
that 

The  art  and  practic  part  of  life 
Must  be  tlie  mistress  to  this  theoric. 

{Hen.  V.  I.  \.  si) 


SCIENCE    BODIED    IN    POETRY.  I25 

In  the  language  of  mystic  philosophy  Shakespeare's  art 
is  the  continent  and  ultimate  of  Bacon's  philosophy  :  there 
is  a  perfect  correspondence  and  continuity  between  them. 
As  the  natural  world  is  created  by  influx  from  the  spiritual 
world,  and  is  its  counterpart  and  representative,  so  is  the 
poetry  of  Shakespeare  poured  forth  as  influx  from  the 
creative  thought  of  Bacon's  science,  giving  to  it  a  concrete: 
presentation,  a  living,  organised  counterpart. 


126 


CHAPTER     IX. 

LOVE    AND     BUSINESS. 

Bacon's  Essay  of  "  Love  "  compared  with   the 
Treatment  of  Love  in  Shakespeare. 

In  Tennyson's  "  Life  "  (II.  424)  the  following  occurs  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend  : — "I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  a  man 
who  wants  my  opinion  as  to  whether  Shakespeare's  Plays 
were  written  by  Bacon.  I  feel  inclined  to  write  back, 
'  Don't  be  a  fool,  sir! '  The  way  in  which  Bacon  speaks  of 
love  would  be  enough  to  prove  that  he  was  not  Shake- 
speare. '  I  know  not  how,  but  martial  men  are  given  to 
love.  I  think  it  is  but  as  they  are  given  to  wine,  for  perils 
commonly  asked  to  be  paid  in  pleasures.'  How  could  a 
man  with  such  an  idea  of  love  write  Romeo  and  Juliet  ?  " 

And  3^et  even  Tennyson  might  have  paused  before 
shutting  off  the  claims  for  Bacon  with  such  resolute  in- 
credulity, not  to  say  unexpressed  incivility.  For  he 
himself  had  found  in  Bacon  qualities  which  are  at  first 
sight  quite  as  incompatible  with  an  unromantic  view  of 
love,  as  he  supposed  Shakespeare  to  be.  Tennyson  had 
been  on  one  occasion  speaking  of  Lord  Bacon,  and  said, 
"  That  certain  passages  of  his  writings,  their  frequent 
eloquence  and  vivid  completeness  lifted  him  more  than 
those  of  almost  any  other  writer."  And  of  the  Essays  he 
said,  "There  is  more  wisdom  compressed  into  that  small 
volume  than  in  any  other  book  of  the  same  size  that  I 
know."  ("Life"  II.  76,  415).  Clearly,  then,  any  unfavour- 
able impression  derived  from  one  or  two  passages  in  a 
5mall  Essay  may  be  corrected  and  perhaps  even  vindicated 


THE    STUMBLING-BLOCK.  127 

when  a  larger  view  is  taken.     What  more  could  he  say  of 
Shakespeare's  wisdom  than  this  ? 

The  objection  which  Tennyson  expressed  so  energeti- 
cally is  one  that  is  often  raised  when  the  Baconian  theory 
is  under   discussion. 

The  Problem. 

1.  It  has  often  been  objected  to  the  Baconian  theory, 
that  the  author  of  the  Essay  of  "  Love"'  and  of  "  Marriage 
and  Single  Life  "  could  not  also  have  written  the  exquisite 
love  scenes  of  the  Shakespeare  plays.  Bacon's  view  of 
love,  it  is  said,  is  so  cold,  so  passionless,  so  unromantic, 
that  he  was  evidently  incapable  of  understanding  or 
sympathising  with  the  sweeter  aspects  of  the  tender 
passion.  This  objection  is  presented  in  a  ver\'  triumphant 
way,  as  at  once  settling  the  whole  question,  and  indeed 
many  Baconians  at  first  find  it  staggering  and  embarrass- 
ing in  the  highest  degree, — an  argument  which  it  is 
extremel}'  difficult  to  meet.  It  is  worth  while  then  to 
examine  it  somewhat  carefully ;  and  in  doing  so  the 
polemics  of  the  case  need  not  blind  us  to  the  exceedingly 
interesting  and  suggestive  comparisons,  which  it  necessi- 
tates between  the  poet  and  the  essayist. 

Those  who  urge  this  objection,  do  so,  it  seems  to  me,  in 
a  very  loose  way,  not  attempting  to  estimate  the  real 
purpose  or  import  of  the  Essays  :  not  taking  any  very 
comprehensive  view  of  the  attitude  of  the  Shakepearean 
poet  to  the  sentiment  of  love.  If  the  two  are  to  be  com- 
pared, it  is  only  fair  to  make  a  quantitative  and  qualitative 
analysis  of  both. 

Mistaken  View  of  the  Essay. 

2.  Bacon  speaks  in  his  Preface  of  a  double  purpose  in 
his  Essays:  "They  come  home  to  men's  business  and 
bosoms."  One  might  suppose  that  if  he  wrote  on  love 
and  marriage,  the  "bosom"  side  of  his  readers  would  be 


128  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

especiall)'  addressed.  But  it  is  not  so  :  the  bosoiu  side  is 
neglected — the  topic  of  the  Essay  is  the  business  side  of  this 
question.  The  Essays  are  very  brief,  very  aphoristic,  very 
concentrated,  never  discursive  or  rhetorical,  but  severely 
reflective  and  practical.  It  is  true  that  poetic  touches  of 
the  most  exquisite  character  constantly  present  themselves. 
The  Essay  of  "  Adversity,"  for  instance,  is  a  most  perfect 
poem.  But  on  the  whole,  in  the  Essays  emotion  is  sup- 
pressed, business  is  supreme.  Anyone  who  goes  to  the 
Essay  of  "  Love  "  for  a  complete  account  of  Love  in  all  its 
points  of  contact  with  life  and  experience,  is  on  a  wrong 
quest.  Love  from  the  Statesman's  and  Philosopher's  point 
of  view, — love  as  related  to  what  we  might  now  call 
politics  or  economics, — love  in  its  bearing  on  public  life 
and  "  business,"  is  the  real  topic  and  no  other.  The  mere 
title  "Of  Love,"— ''Of  Marriage  and  Single  Life,"— does 
not  justify  anyone  in  assuming  that  the  text  shall  contain 
exactly  what  he  expects — exactly  what  he  would  have 
written  on  these  topics.  These  Essays  are  not  accommo- 
dated to  the  preconceptions  of  a  Ninteenth  Century  reader, 
whose  mind  is  saturated  with  the  fiction,  romance  or 
poetry  of  its  literature.  And  Bacon  does  not  trouble  him- 
self to  define  his  limits ;  any  capable  reader,  who  is 
entitled  to  criticise,  can  do  that  for  himself.  Such  a 
reader  will  not  be  slow  to  perceive  that  here  is  nothing 
like  a  rhapsody, — not  even  an  exhaustive  psychologic  or 
physiologic  account  of  the  passion  or  sentiment  of  love, 
but  something  entirely  different.  Many  critics,  strange  to 
say,  have  started  with  the  most  unreasonable  claim  that 
Bacon's  discourse  on  love  shall  contain  not  only  what  they 
think  he  ought  to  say,  but  all  that  he  himself  had  to  say — 
the  whole  continent  of  his  thoughts  and  feelings  about 
love.  And  if  he  does  not  satisfy  these  most  unreasonable 
preconceptions,  they,  measuring  the  great  man  by  their 
own  small  foot-rule,  think  themselves  justified  in  writing 
about  him  in  this  style: — "Bacon  knows  nothing  of  the 
valuable  influence   of  unselfish    and  holv    love  for  a  fair 


SELF-SATISFIED    CRITICS.  I29 

mind  in  a  fair  body.  His  prudential  treatment  of  the 
whole  subject  is  scarcely  better  than  the  sneers  of  La 
Rochefoucauld."  "His  cold  philosophic  nature  was  in- 
capable of  feeling  or  even  imagining  the  loves  of  a 
Cornelia  and  Paulus,  a  Posthumus  and  Imogen."  (Storr 
and  Gibson's  Edition  of  Essays.)  Anything  more  narrow 
and  impertinent  than  this  it  is  difficult  to  conceive.  These 
pedagogic  censors  of  a  great  man  make  Bacon  a  sort  of 
universal  provider,  and  think  themselves  at  liberty  to  enter 
his  study  (or  shop)  and  order  three  courses  and  a  dessert 
according  to  their  own  fancy  ;  and  to  whip  and  scold  him, 
and  sprinkle  their  bad  marks  over  his  exercises,  whenever 
their  order  is  not  duly  executed.  Of  such  irreverent  and 
self-sufficient  critics  Coleridge  was  thinking  when  he 
describes  a  self-confident  critic  who  "puts  on  the  seven 
league  boots  of  self-opinion,  and  strides  at  once  from  an 
illustrator  into  a  supreme  judge  ;  and,  blind  and  deaf,  fills 
his  three  ounce  vial  at  the  Waters  of  Niagara,  and  deter- 
mines at  once  the  greatness  of  the  Cataract  to  be  neither 
more  nor  less  than  his  three  ounce  vial  has  been  able  to 
receive." 

The  Essay  of  Love — Its  Real  Import. 

3.  Bacon  does  not  entirely  ignore  the  romantic  side  of 
love,  but  he  refers  it  to  different  treatment.  "  The  stage," 
he  says,  "*  is  more  beholding  to  love  than  the  life  of  man." 
In  his  Essay  he  is  speaking  of  a  somewhat  neglected  view 
of  love.  If  it  is  predominant  it  is  a  "weak  passion;"  it 
may  not  govern  all  the  actions  of  life.  Walter  Savage 
Landor  expresses  much  the  same  idea:  "Love  is  a 
secondary  passion  in  those  who  love  most ;  a  primary  in 
those  who  love  least."  {Imag.  Conv.  Ascham  and  Lady 
Jane  Grey.)  Love,  in  Bacon's  view,  is  for  the  privacy  of 
home  ;  if  it  follows  its  votary  into  the  street  it  becomes  an 
enfeebling  influence  :  "it  checks  with  business;  it  troubleth 
men's  fortunes,  and  maketh  men  that  they  can  no  ways  be 
true  to  their  own  ends."'     "  Great  spirits  and  great  business 

K 


130  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    HACOMAN    LIGHT. 

do  keep  out  this  weak  passion."     "  It  is  a  strange  thing  to 
note  the   excess  of  this  passion,  and  how   it  braves  the 
nature  and  value  of  things  by  this,  that  the  speaking  in  a 
perpetual  hyperbole  is  comely  in  nothing  but  love."     "He 
that  preferred  Helena,  quitted  the  gifts  of  Juno  and  Pallas; 
for  whosoever  esteemeth  too  much  of  amorous  affection 
quitteth  both   riches   and   wisdom."     "  Amare   et  sapere 
vix  Deo  conceditur."     "  Love  is  the  child  of  folly.     They 
do  best  who,  if  they  cannot  but  admit  love,  yet  make  it 
keep  quarter,  and  sever  it  wholly  from  their  serious  aifairs 
and  actions  of  life."     This  is  not  a  popular  view  of  love, 
but  it  may  be  true  nevertheless,  and  it  may  be  held  by  one 
who  is  no  cynic,  not  a  cold-blooded,  self-centred,  worldly- 
minded  egotist,  but  a  keen  observer,  who  will  not  suffer 
his  view  of  the  realities  of  life  to  be  distorted  by  romance. 
It  is  a  permissible  theory  that  love  is  for  private,  household 
use ;  that,  like  religion,  it  must  enter  into  its  closet  and 
shut  the  door  ;  that  If  it  intrudes  into  the  market  place  it  is 
both  weak  and  ridiculous,  and  hinders  the  lawful  business 
of  the  place.     This  is  Bacon's  position,   stated  with  his 
usual  epigrammatic  terseness,   not  fenced  by  such  explana- 
tions as  purblind  readers  need  in  order  to  keep  them  from 
stumbling.     And  this  neglected  view  is  exactly  what  might 
be  expected  from  a  writer  who  has  no  relish  for  conven- 
tional platitudes,  no  room  for  common-places,  and  who 
knows  quite  well  that  fair  and  competent  critics  will  judge 
him,  not  from  one  utterance,  but  from  an  impartial  and  com- 
prehensive study  of  his  whole  life,  and  of  all  his  writings. 

Bacon's  Praise  of  the  Worthiest  Affection. 

4.  Bacon  points  to  the  Drama  as  the  most  suitable  stage 
for  the  portraiture  of  love  ;  and  his  scanty  reference  to  it  in 
his  prose  writings  is  naturally  explained  by  those  who 
know  how  magnificently  he  poured  out  all  the  treasures  of 
his  heart,  his  fanc}',  and  his  intellect  in  his  dramatic 
poetry.  There  is,  however,  one  prose  composition,  which, 
occurring   in   a   masque,    belongs    properly    to   dramatic 


BACON  S  EULOGY  OF  LOVE.  13I 

literature,  in  which  love  is  the  theme  of  most  eloquent  and 
poetic  eulogy.  This  is  to  be  found,  in  a  mutilated  form, 
in  the  "Conference  of  Pleasure."  which  contains  a  discourse 
"in  praise  of  the  worthiest  affection."  The  speech  is  too 
long  for  quotation,  but  as  this  delightful  piece  is  not  easily 
obtainable,  I  give  a  sample  :  "As  for  other  affections  they 
be  but  sufferings  of  nature  ;  they  seek  ransoms  and 
rescues  from  that  which  is  evil,  not  enjoying  a  union 
with  that  which  is  good.  They  seek  to  expel  that  which  is 
contrary,  not  to  attract  that  which  is  agreeable.  Fear  and 
grief, — the  traitors  of  nature.  Bashfulness, — a  thraldom 
to  every  man's  concept  and  countenance.  Pity, — a  con- 
federacy with  the  miserable.  Desire  of  revenge, — the 
supplying  of  a  wound.  All  these  endeavour  to  keep  the 
main  stock  of  nature,  to  preserve  her  from  loss  and  dimi- 
nution. But  love  is  a  pure  gain  and  advancement  in 
nature  ;  it  is  not  a  good  by  comparison,  but  a  true  good  ; 
it  is  not  an  ease  of  pain,  but  a  true  purchase  of  pleasures  ; 
and  therefore,  when  our  minds  are  soundest,  when  they 
are  not,  as  it  were,  in  sickness  and  therefore  out  of  taste, 
but  when  we  be  in  prosperity,  when  we  want  nothing, 
then  is  the  season,  and  the  opportunity,  and  the  spring  of 
love.  And  as  it  springeth  not  out  of  ill,  so  it  is  not  inter- 
mixed with  ill :  it  is  not  like  the  virtues,  which  by  a  steep 
and  ragged  way  conduct  us  to  a  plain,  and  are  hard  task- 
masters at  first,  and  after  give  an  honourable  hire  ;  but  the 
first  aspect  of  love,  and  all  that  followeth,  is  gracious  and 
pleasant." 

Let  us  now  see  if  the  Shakesperean  treatment  of  love 
differs  in  any  essential  respect  from  Bacon's.  My  conten- 
tion is,  that  they  are  curiously  identical, — so  much  so  as 
to  supply,  on  a  very  extended  scale,  one  of  those  striking 
correspondences  between  the  two  groups  of  writings,  which 
in  their  accumulation  point  irresistibly  to  identity  of 
authorship. 

Restricted  Use  of  Love  in  Shakespeare. 
5.  One  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  Shakesperean 


132         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

drama  is  the  extremely  restricted  use  it  makes  of  love, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  the  foundation  and  pivot  of 
dramatic  art.  The  exceeding  beauty  and  attractiveness  of 
the  love  pictures  actually  given,  blinds  us  to  their  rarity  : 
they  attract  so  much  interest  as  almost  to  absorb  the  con- 
sideration of  the  reader  or  spectator,  and  put  other  scenes 
into  the  shade.  Also  the  charm  of  these  love  pictures  is  so 
great  that  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  they  are  often  set  in  a 
framework  of  weakness,  confusion,  or  disorder, — that  there 
is  a  canker  of  decay  in  even  the  loveliest  of  these  flowers. 
Apart  from  this  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  in  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  plays  love  is  either  entirely  absent  or  completely 
subordinate, — not  the  main  centre  of  interest  or  action. 
And  again,  even  where  some  slight  love  element  is  intro- 
duced, it  may  be  not  only  very  unimportant,  but  entirely 
destitute  of  romance  or  fascination.  Mr.  T.  W.  White, 
among  other  critics,  notes  this  fact  as  very  remarkable. 
He  says,  "Shakespeare  is  almost  alone  among  his  contem- 
poraries and  successors  in  frequently  rejecting  love  as  the 
motive  of  his  drama ;  "  and  the  conclusion  at  which  Mr. 
White  arrives  is,  that  the  poet  had  a  weak  animal  develop- 
ment !  "Shakespeare,  in  the  selected  passages  (from 
Hamlet)  to  which  we  have  referred,  manifests  a  total 
insensibility  to  the  gross  passion  of  love.  In  descriptions 
of  Platonic  affection  and  conventional  gallantry  he  is  un- 
surpassed ;  but  when  he  essays  to  be  personally  tender, 
his  muse  becomes  tediously  perfunctory,  as  we  see  in 
Hamlet."     ("Our  English  Homer,"  pp.  31,  122). 

I  quote  these  passages,  not  as  agreeing  with  them 
entirely.  Mr.  White  is  often  inaccurate,  still  more  fre- 
quently eccentric  and  paradoxical,  and  sometimes,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  strangely  purblind.  But  his  judgment  may 
be  taken  as  a  tolerably  accurate  representation  of  the 
conclusion  likely  to  be  formed  by  any  one  who  fairly 
fronts  the  question,  and  is  not  misled  by  early  and  crude 
impressions. 

If,    however,   we  may  briefly  run    through  the   plays,. 


THE    HISTORICAL    PLAYS.  133 

taking  a  swift  glance  at  each,  the  resemblance  between  the 
Shakesperean  and  the  Baconian  view  of  love  will  become 
distinct  and  even  startling. 

Love  in  the  Historical  Plays. 

6.  First  of  all,  let  us  look  at  the  Historical  Plays.  In 
these  love  is  throughout  subordinate,  and  in  some  it  is 
entirely  absent. 

It  is  absent  from  John,  and  Richard  II. 

In  I  Henry  IV.  it  is  incidentally  introduced  in  the  persons 
of  Hotspur  and  Lady  Percy,  and  it  shows  Hotspur  so 
intent  on  business  as  almost  to  neglect  his  wife,  and 
provoke  her  reproaches. 

O,  my  good  lord,  why  are  you  thus  alone  ? 
For  what  offence  have  I  this  fortnight  been 
A  banished  woman  from  my  Harry's  bed  ? 

And  then  she  tells  him  how  she  has  watched  him,  awake 
and  asleep,  and  finds  that  his  mind  is  occupied  with 
concerns  in  which  she  is  not  permitted  to  share  : — 

Some  heavy  business  hath  my  lord  in  hand, 
And  I  must  know  it,  else  he  loves  me  not  .  .  . 
In  faith,  I'll  break  thy  little  finger,  Harry, 
And  if  thou  wilt  not  tell  me  all  things  true. 

But  the  "mad-headed  ape,"  the  "weasel  toss'd  with  such 
a  deal  of  spleen,"  "the  paraquito,"  as  she  with  playful 
irritation  calls  him,  brusquely  puts  her  off  with, — 

Awa}',  3^ou  Trifler  !  Love  !  I  love  thee  not, 
I  care  not  for  thee,  Kate. 

And  then,  in  reply  to  her  pained  remonstrance,  he  replies  : 

Come,  wilt  thou  see  me  ride  ? 
And  when  I  am  o'  horseback,  I  will  swear 
I  love  thee  infinitely.     But  hark  you,  Kate, 
I  must  not  have  you  hencefortli  question  me 
Whither  I  go,  nor  reason  whereabout  : 


134         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN   BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Whither  I  must,  I  must. 

(Sec  I  Hill.  /['.  II.  iii.  40 — 120). 

It  is  a  charming  picture  of  true  love  on  both  sides  ;  but  the 
husband  has  his  love  in  check,  and  when  the  wife  tries  to 
spy  into  his  business,  he  gaily  thwarts  her,  being  evidently 
resolved  to  keep  his  active  life  as  a  warrior  and  politician 
entirely  unembarrassed  by  domestic  ties. 

If  any  one  looks  for  love;  scenes  in  2  Hen.  IV.,  he  must 
find  them  in  company  with  Doll  Tear-sheet,  or  be  content 
to  miss  them  altogether. 

In  Henry  V.  there  is  a  pretty  wooing  scene  between  the 
King  and  the  French  Princess.  In  this  wooing,  however, 
there  is  more  policy  than  passion.  The  whole  transaction 
turns  on  considerations  of  State  advantage  and  Royal  con- 
venience.    Here  is  a  specimen  ;  it  is  all  in  prose  : — 

Before  God,  Kate,  I  cannot  look  greenly  nor  gasp  out  mv 
eloquence,  nor  have  I  no  cunning  in  protestation  ;  only  downright 
oaths,  which  I  never  use  till  urged,  nor  never  break  for  urging. 
.  .  .  I  speak  to  thee  plain  soldier  :  if  thou  canst  love  me  for 
this,  take  me  ;  if  not,  to  say  to  thee  I  shall  die,  is  true  ;  but  for 
thy  love,  by  the  Lord,  No  !  3'et  I  love  thee  too. — (See  the  whole 
scene  in  Hcii.   F.  V.  ii.) 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  this  kind  of  self-possessed, — one 
may  even  say,  self-centred  love-making.  It  is  the  ideal 
portrait  of  a  man  who  "if  he  cannot  but  admit  love, 
yet  makes  it  keep  quarter."  It  shews  in  what  way 
and  how  far  "martial  men  are  given  to  love.  I  think 
it  is  but  as  they  are  given  to  wine,  for  perils  commonly  ask 
to  be  paid  in  pleasures  :  "  a  compensation  to  be  duly  paid 
when  the  business  is  transacted. 

The  play  of  i  Henry  VI.  contains  one  wooing  incident, 
but  no  love.  The  wooing  is  by  proxy,  and  the  alliance  is 
entirely  dictated  by  State  policy.     See  Act  V.  sc.  v. 

There  is  nothing  of  the  kind  in  2  or  3  Henry  VI. 

In  Richard  III.  love  is  very  sparingly  introduced,  almost 
ignored,  and  wdien  introduced,  most  curiously  blended  with 


LOVE  RULES  NOT  :  BUT  IS  RULED,         I35 

hatred  and  repugnance.  At  the  beginning  of  the  play  we 
come  upon  a  fantastic  mockery  of  courtship.  The  cynical 
wooer,  for  reasons  connected  solely  with  self-advancement, 
manages  to  change  the  lady's  curses  into  caresses,  and  then 
jestingly  exclaims, — 

Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  woo'd  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  won  ? 

[Rich.  III.  I.ii.  228). 

The  drama  of  Henry  VIII.  shews  a  royal  lover,  whose 
many  courtships  and  espousals,  so  far  from  interfering 
with  business,  are  entirel}'  subservient  to  State  considera- 
tions. The  love  of  Queen  Katherine  is  found  to  be  in- 
consistent with  the  interests  of  royalty.  The  Queen, 
however,  refuses  to  submit  her  married  rights  to  such 
control,  and  urges  them  upon  a  spouse,  who  is  determined 
that  they  shall  not  "check  with  his  business,"  or  "  trouble 
his  fortunes."  Her  claims  are  gently,  but  effectually  put 
aside. 

We  see  then,  that  throughout  the  Historical  plays  love 
is  managed,  it  never  swaj's.  It  may  be  said  that  the 
Histories,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  must  show  the 
public  side  of  life,  that  their  one  aim  is  to  present  past 
events  in  a  vivid,  pictorial  way.  Consequently,  love  could 
not  be  introduced  where  the  incidents  did  not  supply  it. 
This  is  only  partially  true.  At  any  rate  it  is  highly 
significant  that  the  Shakespearean  poet  should,  to  so  large 
an  extent,  make  selection  of  subjects  which  accept  this 
limitation.  And  it  is  also  to  be  noted,  that  every  con- 
structor of  an  historical  romance  feels  himself  at  liberty 
to  embellish  and  enhance  the  attraction  of  historic  truth 
by  additional  touches  derived  from  his  own  fancy,  and 
as  a  rule  these  invented  embellishments  consist  of  love 
scenes.  It  is,  then,  not  a  little  remarkable  that  Shake- 
speare takes  no  pains  so  to  select  or  record  his  historic 
facts,  that  they  may  bear  the  freightage  of  love  episodes, 
created  by  himself:     he    does    not    find    it    necessary  to 


136         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

shape  the  structure  of  his  dramas,  as  he  assuredly  might, 
so  as  to  heighten  their  interest  by  the  glow  and  radiance 
of  passion.  In  most  other  hands  doubtless  love  passages 
would  have  been  added,  even  if  the  history  had  to  be 
strained  in  order  to  find  place  for  them. 

We  find,  then,  that  every  one  of  the  love  incidents  in 
the  historic  plays  might  be  taken  as  cases  in  point,  ex- 
pressly intended  to  illustrate  the  philosophy  of  love, 
marriage,  and  business,  as  expounded  in  the  Baconian 
'•Essays:"  a  conclusion,  I  imagine,  which  few  readers 
would  anticipate. 

Love  in  the  Tragedies. 

7.  The  Tragedies,  as  might  be  expected,  give  us  some 
excellent  pictures  of  the  Romantic  side  of  love.  Here, 
then,  we  shall  perhaps,  find  the  want  of  harmony  between 
the  "Essays"  and  the  "Plays,"  on  which  the  critics  so 
vauntingly  descant.     Let  us  see  if  this  is  really  the  case. 

Troilus  and  Cressida  is  certainly  not  a  love  Tp\a.y.  The 
puzzle  of  it, — if  it  was  written  by  a  theatrical  manager  for 
business  purposes, — is  how  such  a  profound  study  of  moral, 
social,  and  political  philosophy  could  have  ever  been  put 
upon  the  boards.  A  love  scene  is,  indeed,  the  central 
incident  of  the  plot ;  but  there  is  a  wanton  element  in  it. 
There  is  a  startling  contrast  between  the  exquisite  beauty 
and  rapture  of  the  vows,  which  the  lovers  utter  when  they 
are  wooing,  and  the  subsequent  infidelity  of  the  lady,  who 
had  protested  so  ardently  her  eternal  constancy.  It  is  an 
episode  in  the  great  drama,  and  one  of  weakness  and 
shame.  None  of  the  noblest  persons  in  the  play  have  any 
share  in  this  part  of  it,  nor  any  love  passages  of  their  own. 
In  reading  it  we  are  reminded  of  Bacon's  remark,  "You 
may  observe  that  amongst  all  the  great  and  worthy  persons, 
whereof  the  memory  remaineth,  either  ancient  or  modern, 
there  is  not  one  that  hath  been  transported  to  the  mad 
degree  of  love  :  which  shews  that  great  spirits  and  great 
business  do  keep  out  this  weak  passion."     This  maxim 


LOVE    IN    THE    TRAGEDIES.  137 

certainly  applies  to  this  play  and  to  all  the  Shakespearean 
drama.  Another  of  the  maxims  which  has  been  alread}' 
quoted,  as  to  love  braving  the  nature  of  things  by  its  per- 
petual hyperbole,  is  exactly  reproduced  with  added 
cynicism  in  the  following  : — 

Tro. — O,  let  my  lady  apprehend  no  fear,  in  all  Cupid's  pageant 
there  is  presented  no  monster. 

Cres. — Nor  nothing  monstrous  either  ? 

Tro.  —  Nothing,  but  our  undertakings  :  when  we  vow  to  weep 
seas,  live  in  fire,  eat  rocks,  tame  tigers  :  thinking  it  harder  for  our 
mistress  to  devise  imposition  enough,  than  for  us  to  undergo  any 
difficulty  imposed.  This  is  the  monstrosity  in  love,  lady,  that  the 
will  is  infinite  and  the  execution  confined,  that  the  desire  is  bound- 
less and  the  act  a  slave  to  limit. 

Cres. — They  say,  all  lovers  swear  more  performance  than  they  are 
able,  and  yet  reserve  an  ability  that  they  never  perform;  vowing 
more  than  the  perfection  of  ten,  and  discharging  less  than  the  tenth 
part  of  one.  They  that  have  the  voice  of  hons,  and  the  act  of  hares, 
are  they  not  monsters  ?    {Tro.  Cres.  III.  ii.  71). 

In  Coriolanus  the  love  element  is  absent.  It  is  how- 
ever worthy  of  remark,  that  the  personal  appeal  of  the 
women  and  children  of  Rome,  by  which  the  vengeance  of 
the  hero  is  averted,  is  spoken  by  the  mother,  who  has  out- 
lived the  romance  of  her  young  days,  not  by  the  wife. 
Doubtless  history  required  this ;  but  it  did  not  dictate 
such  a  striking  contrast  as  that  we  find  between  the 
strength  of  the  widowed  mother,  and  the  feebleness,  tame- 
ness,  almost  insipidity  of  the  wedded  wife.  The  widow  is 
self-reliant  and  masterful  ;  the  tender,  plastic  period  of  her 
life  has  passed  ;  while  the  wife  is  timid,  shrinking,  help- 
less, incapable  of  action  or  of  cheerfulness  without  the 
stimulus  of  her  husband's  presence.  During  his  absence 
she  can  only  sit  at  home,  musing  and  mooning,  and  pining 
and  watching  for  his  return. 

Titus  Andronicus  is  a  play  of  the  dramatic's  earlier  time, 
written  in  what  Count  Vitzthum  calls  the  "Marlowe 
period  "  of  Bacon's  life.     And  in  a  play  of  this  period,  if 


138         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

anywhere,  one  might  expect  to  see  love  pictured  in  its 
romance  and  fascination.  But  it  is  entirely  absent.  Or, 
if  present  at  all,  its  demonic  aspect  alone  is  presented  :  it  is 
associated  with  those  revolting  scenes  of  blood,  and 
horror,  and  cruelty,  and  outrage,  which  make  this  play  as 
much  a  puzzle  as  Bacon  himself,  or  the  Baconian  theory. 
The  critics  would  gladly  hand  it  over  to  Marlowe,  and 
many  of  them  do  s^. 

But  in  Romeo  and  Juliet :  surely  romantic  and  passion- 
ate love  is  here  !  Yes,  truly  it  is  ;  but  it  is  a  consuming 
passion  which  blasts  and  ruins  its  victims,  and  spoils  them 
for  the  practical  "business"  of  life.  The  perfect  and 
matchless  beauty  of  the  picture  may  well  make  us  oblivious 
of  the  latent  moral — "  This  passion  hath  his  floods  in  the 
very  time  of  weakness."  The  play  is  a  commentary  on 
Bacon's  aphorism — "In  life  it  doth  much  mischief,  some- 
times like  a  siren,  sometimes  like  a  Fury  :  "  both  the  siren 
and  the  Fury  appear  in  the  play.  The  moral  is,  the  fatal 
consequence  of  being  "transported  to  the  mad  degree  of 
love."     Friar  Lawrence  draws  the  moral  : — 

These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends, 

And  in  their  triumpli  die ;  lilce  fire  and  powder, 

Which  as  they  kiss  consume  :  the  sweetest  hone}^ 

Is  loathsome  in  liis  own  deliciousness, 

And  in  the  taste  confounds  the  appetite. 

Therefore  love  moderately  ;  long  love  doth  so  ; 

Too  swift  arrives  as  tardy  as  too  slow. 

{Rom.  Jul.  II.  vi.  9). 

Love  is  shewn  as  "  one  of  those  bodies  which  they  call 
imperfectc  niista,  which  last  not,  but  are  speedily  dissolved." 
("  Life,"  III.  94).     It  is  full  of  paradox  :— 

O  lieavy  lightness  !  serious  vanity  ! 

Misshapen  chaos  of  well-seeming  forms  ! 

Feather  of  lead  !  bright  smoke  !  cold  fire  !  sick  health  ! 

Still-waking  sleep,  that  is  not  what  it  is  ! 

[lb.  I.  i.  184.) 

When  Romeo's  wooing  is  interrupted  by  his  banishment, 
he  is  ready  to  destroy  himself,  and  well  does  he  deserve 


FRIAR    LAWRENCE  S    INVECTIVE.  I39 

the  long  lecture  on  fortitude  which  Friar  Lawrence  ad- 
dresses to  him,  shewing  that  the  passion  which  possesses 
him  is  essentiall}^  a  "weak  passion."  These  are  the 
scathing  terms,  which  the  judicious  priest  considers 
appropriate  : — 

Art  thou  a  man  r  thy  form  cries  that  thou  art  : 
Thy  tears  are  womanish  ;  thy  wild  acts  denote 
The  unreasonable  fury  of  a  beast  : 
Unseemly  woman  in  a  seeming  man  ! 
Or  ill  beseeming  beast  in  seeming  both  ! 
Thou  hast  amazed  me  :  bv  m}^  holy  order 
I  thought  thy  disposition  better  temper'd. 

[RoiJ!.  'Jill.  III.  iii.  109). 

Fie  !  Fie  !  thou  sham'st  thy  shape,  thy  love,  th}'  wit  .  .  . 

Th)^  noble  shape  is  but  a  form  of  wax, 

Digressing  from  the  valour  of  a  man. 

Thy  dear  love  sworn,  but  hollow  perjur}-, 

Killing  that  love  which  thou  hast  vow'd  to  cherish. 

Thy  wit,  that  ornament  to  shape  and  love, 

Misshapen  in  tlie  conduct  of  them  both, 

Like  powder  in  a  skilless  soldier's  flask. 

Is  set  afire  by  thine  own  ignorance, 

And  thou  dismember'd  with  thine  own  defence. 

(//).  III.  iii.  122.) 

Bacon's  indictment  against  love  is  accurately  repro- 
duced, much  augmented  and  intensified. 

In  Timon  of  Athens,  the  only  two  female  characters 
introduced  are  the  two  mistresses  of  Alcibiades.  In  the 
whole  play  love  is  absolutely  ignored. 

In  Julius  CcBsar  Portia  is  an  ideal  portrait  of  a  "noble 
wife,"  a  sweet  and  stately  Roman  matron,  full  of  devotion 
to  her  lord.  But  Portia  complains,  in  much  the  same 
terms  as  Hotspur's  wife,  that  Brutus  carefully  shuts  her 
out  from  all  share  in  his  public  life.  She  is  kept  severely 
for  home  use,  and  may  not  follow  her  lord  into  the  halls 
and  marts  of  civic  business.  She  too  tells  her  husband 
how  she  had  observed  signs  of  distraction  in  him  :  — 

And  when  I  asked  vou  what  the  matter  was. 


140         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

You  stared  upon  me  witli  ungentle  looks. 

(fill.  C^l!S.  II.  i.  241). 

The  strife  between  love  and  business  could  not  be  better 
pictured  than  in  this  striking  scene  between  Brutus  and 
Portia. 

Brutus  is  deeply  touched  by  Portia's  death,  but  he  hides 
his  emotion,  and  will  not  permit  even  this  to  weaken  him 
in  his  public  duties. 

Julius  Caesar  is  half  persuaded  by  Calpurnia  to  absent 
himself  from  the  Senate  House,  but  the  sarcasms  of  Decius 
Brutus  have  more  power  over  him  than  the  terrors  and 
entreaties  of  his  wife. 

Portia  and  Calpurnia  are  the  only  two  female  characters 
in  this  noble  drama,  and  their  power  and  place  exactly 
correspond  with  the  limitations  which  Bacon  defines  as 
the  proper  enclosure  for  love. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra  presents  us  with  Bacon's  own 
chosen  exception  to  the  rule  that — "Great  spirits  and 
great  business  do  keep  out  this  weak  passion.  You  must 
except  nevertheless  Marcus  Antonius,  the  half-partner  of 
the  Empire  of  Rome."  The  Essay  of  "  Love"  is  the  key 
which  unlocks  the  meaning  of  the  play.  The  opening 
lines  bring  before  us  a  great  spirit  mastered  and  ruined  by 
passion  :^ 

Nay  !  but  this  dotage  of  our  General's 

O'erflows  the  measure  :  those  his  goodly  e3'es 

That  o'er  the  hies  and  musters  of  the  war 

Have  glowed  like  plated  Mars,  now  bend,  now  turn, 

The  office  and  devotion  of  their  view 

Upon  a  tawny  front. 

(Aiif.  CIco.  I.  i.  i). 

We  might  quote  half  the  play  to  illustrate  the  senti- 
ments and  cautions  of  the  Essay.  In  the  whole  play 
Bacon's  philosophy  is  speaking  articulately,  in  concrete 
stage  effects.  Bacon  writes,  "They  do  best  who,  if  they 
cannot  but  admit  love,  yet  make  it  keep  quarter  and  sever 
it  wholly  from  their  serious  affairs  and  actions  of  life." 


LOVE    UNDER    CONTROL.  I4I 

This  Antony  failed  to  do,  and  this  accounts  for  the 
disaster  and  ruin,  which  overtakes  the  lovers  and  all  who 
are  swayed  by  them.  This  is  the  whole  motive  and  idea  of 
the  play.  The  Essay  and  the  play  fit  one  another  as  text 
and  pictorial  illustrations. 

Macbeth  and  Lear  may  be  passed  over  without  any  other 
comment  than  that  love  is  entirely  absent  :  no  love  instance 
can  be  extracted  from  them.  In  Lear  there  is  some 
lawless  love,  no  true  love. 

In  Hamlet  love  plays  a  very  subordinate  but  a  ve~ry 
significant  part.  Hamlet  and  Ophelia  are  in  love  with  one 
another  ;  she  deeply,  he  sincerely  but  moderately.  He  is  a 
"great  spirit,"  and  consequently  the  mad  degree  of  love 
does  not  reach  him  :  he  can  master  his  passion  and  make 
it  "keep  quarter."  The  great  business  to  which  he  has 
devoted  himself  is  checked  by  many  influences, — by 
"  bestial  oblivion,  or  some  craven  scruple  of  thinking  too 
precisely  on  the  event,"  by  his  habit  of  deliberation  and 
procrastination  ;  but  love  interposes  no  obstacle.  The  very 
opposite  is  the  case  with  Ophelia ;  love,  and  its  issue  in 
disappointment,  overpowers  her  reason  and  her  will,  and 
leads  to  the  self-slaughter,  to  which  Hamlet  also  was 
tempted,  but  was  strong  enough  to  resist.  Ophelia's  ruin 
is  the  result  of  this  "weak  passion."  The  Queen  is  the 
text  for  many  of  Hamlet's  reproaches  of  womankind  : 
"Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman;"  "Brief  as  woman's 
tears."  And  Hamlet's  opinions  about  love  are  the  same 
as  Bacon's,  but  expressed  with  even  greater  frankness  and 
cynicism:  "If  thou  wilt  needs  marry,  marry  a  fool  ;  for 
wise  men  know  well  enough  what  monsters  you  make  of 
them  ;  "  and  we  know  from  the  discourse  in  Troilus  and 
Cressida  what  the  poet  was  thinking  of  when  he  spoke  of 
monsters,  and  how  exactly  this  is  reflected  in  Bacon's 
Essay. 

In  Othello  Bacon's  text  is  almost  quoted,  and  is  very 
vividly  illustrated.  Both  the  Siren  and  the  Fury  appear, 
and  with  the  Fury  its  consequent  mischief.     Othello's  love 


142  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

is  moderate  and  self-poised  :  there  is  no  madness  in  it ; 
but  it  is  the  basis  of  the  jealousy  and  rage  excited  by  the 
wily  suggestions  of  lago.  Here  is  the  one  "  weak"  point 
in  his  nature,  through  which  he  becomes  plastic  to  the 
"tempering"  of  his  Ancient.  In  everything  else  he  is 
unassailable  :  as  a  lover  he  is  feeble  and  flexible,  and  this 
it  is  which  brings  ruin  and  death,  first  to  Desdemona,  and 
then  to  himself.  Here  again  Bacon's  philosophy  is  most 
accurately  reflected.  Othello  is  appointed  to  high  military 
command  just  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  and  he  will  not 
for  a  moment  permit  his  duty  to  the  State  to  be  interrupted 
or  damaged  by  the  newly- contracted  ties.  His  resolve  is 
almost  textually  a  reproduction  of  Bacon's  Essay  :— 

And  heaven  defend  your  good  souls,  that  you  think 

I  will  your  serious  and  great  business  scant 

For  she  is  with  me  ;  no,  when  light-winged  toys 

Of  feather'd  Cupid  seel  with  wanton  dulness 

My  speculative  and  officed  instruments, 

That  my  disports  corrupt  and  taint  my  business, 

Let  house-wives  make  a  skillet  of  my  helm, 

And  all  indign  and  base  adversities, 

Make  head  against  mv  estimation  ! 

{pih.  I.  iii.  266). 

And  to  Desdemona  he  says  : — ■ 

Come,  Desdemona,  I  have  but  an  hour 

Of  love,  of  worldly  affairs  and  direction. 

To  spend  with  thee  :  we  must  obey  the  time.    {lb.  299), 

In  Cymbeline  love  is  not  ignored,  and  it  is  the  only  one 
•  of  the  tragedies,  in  which  the  sentiments  of  the  Essay  of 
"  Love  "  are  not  expressly  reflected.  But  even  here  there 
is  nothing  inconsistent  with  the  Essay.  The  love  of 
Imogen  is  a  perfect  picture  of  womanly  affection  and  con- 
stancy :  the  woman's  side  is  excellently  given.  But  the 
husband's  side  is  lightly  and  imperfectly  sketched.  His 
heroism,  his  fortitude,  his  intellectual  power  and  culture, 
his  trust  in  his  wife's  goodness,  his  agony  on  finding  as  he 
supposes  that  she  is  unfaithful,  all  these  are  evident :  he 


LOVE    IN    THE    COMEDIES,  I43 

appears  rarely  and  fitfully  on  the  scene,  and  has  no  very 
important  relation  to  the  action  of  the  drama.  The  love 
element  in  the  play  is  quite  subordinate  ;  the  real  dramatic 
business  is  independent  of  it. 

In  Pericles  love  is  associated  either  with  romantic 
adventure  or  hideous  pollution.  There  is  nothing  attractive 
or  sacred  in  it  ;  it  is  rather  a  disturbing  than  an  essential 
element.  It  is  not  omitted,  but  one  could  almost  wish 
that  it  had  been. 

So  far,  then,  in  the  ten  histories  and  twelve  tragedies. 
Bacon's  view  of  love  is  not  only  never  contradicted,  but  it 
is  uniformly  {Cymheline  excepted)  reflected,  and  that  with 
singular,  and  sometimes  almost  textual  accuracy. 

Perhaps  the  comedies  will  supply  us  with  the  contrast, 
which  we  are  so  confidently  assured  exists,  between  Bacon's 
conception  of  love  and  Shakespeare's  pictures  of  it.  Let 
us  open  them  and  see. 

Love  in  the  Comedies. 

8.  The  Tempest  gives  us  an  enchanting  picture  of  the 
love  between  Ferdinand  and  Miranda,  and  on  this  incident 
much  of  the  action  of  the  drama  turns.  But  here  love  and 
the  work  of  life  are  absolutely  detached  ;  and  what  may  be 
the  poet's  idea  of  the  relation  between  them  cannot  pos- 
sibly be  surmised  from  the  pure  fantasy  of  this  exquisite 
vision. 

The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  supplies  us  with  a  most 
genuinely  Baconian  view  of  love  ;  it  is  represented  as  a 
source  of  weakness  and  folly,  and  spoils  the  votary  for  the 
true  pursuits  of  life. 

To  be  in  love,  where  scorn  is  bought  with  groans  ; 

Coy  looks  with  heart-sore  sighs ;  one  fading  moment's  mirth 

With  twenty  watchful,  weary,  tedious  niglits  ; 

If  haply  won,  perhaps  a  hapless  gain  ; 

If  lost,  why  then  a  grievous  labour  won  ; 

However  but  a  follv  bought  with  wit, 

Or  else  a  wit  by  folh'  vanquished. 

.     .     .     .     As  the  most  forward  bud 


144  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT, 

Is  eaten  by  the  canker  ere  it  blow, 

Even  so  by  love  the  young  and  tender  wit 

Is  turned  to  folly. 

And  Proteus,  as  he  takes  farewell  of  Valentine,  who 
goes, 

To  see  tlie  wonders  of  the  world  abroad, 

while  he  remains   "living  dully  sluggardized  at  home," 
thus  moralizes, — 

He  after  honour  hunts,  I  after  love  ; 
He  leaves  his  friends  to  dignify  them  more ; 
I  leave  myself,  my  friends,  and  all,  for  love. 
Thou,  Julia,  thou  hast  metamorphosed  me. 
Made  me  neglect  my  studies,  lose  my  time. 
War  with  good  counsel,  set  the  world  at  nought. 
Made  wit  with  musing  weak,  heart  sick  with  thought.* 

{Two  Gent.  I.  sc.  i.  I.  i — 69). 

Julia's  own  impressions  are  not  very  different  : 

Fie,  fie,  how  wayward  is  this  foolish  love, 
That  like  a  testy  babe,  will  scratch  the  nurse, 
Then  presentlv,  all  humbled,  kiss  the  rod. 

{lb.  I.  ii.  57^. 

The  special  marks  of  a  lover,  enumerated  by  Speed,  are 
every  one  of  them  tokens  of  weakness,  or  of  unnatural 
transformation. 

"You  have  learned,  like  Sir  Proteus,  to  wreathe  your  arms,  like  a 
malcontent ;  to  relish  a  love-song,  like  a  robin-red-breast ;  to  walk 
alone,  like  one  that  had  the  pestilence;  to  sigh,  like  a  schoolboy  that 
hath  lost  his  A. B.C.  ;  to  weep,  like  a  young  wench  that  hath  buried 
her  grandam;  to  fast,  like  one  that  takes  diet;  to  watch,  like  one  that 
fears  robbing  ;  to  speak  puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Hallowmas.  You 
were  wont,  when  you  laughed,  to  crow  like  acock;  when  you  walked, 
to  walk  like  one  of  the  lions  ;  wlien  you  fasted,  it  was  presently  after 

•■■  En  passant,  observe  the  interesting  anticipation  of  the  leading 
motif  of  Hamlet  in  the  last  two  lines.  The  same  infirmities,  as  inci- 
dent to  studious  pursuits,  are  alluded  to  in  Bacon's  "Advancement  of 
Learning,"  I.  ii.  i  and  4. 


LOVE    IN    THE    COMEDIES.  I45 

dinner  ;  when  you  looked  sadly  it  was  for  want  of  money  ;  and  now 
you  are  metamorphosed  with  a  mistress,  that,  when  I  look  on  3'ou  I 
can  hardly  think  you  my  master."     (lb.  II.  i.  i8j. 

The  metamorphosis,  thus  referred  to,  is  the  same  con- 
dition that  Bacon  describes  as  "transported  to  the  mad 
degree  of  love."  The  play  does  not  omit  to  speak  of  the 
"blmdness,"  and  "folly"  of  love.  And  the  "perpetual 
hyperbole  "  of  the  lover  provokes  the  exclamation, 

Why,  Valentine,  what  braggardism  is  this  ? 

{lb.  II.  iv.  164). 

Nothing  could  possibly  match  the  Essay  better  than  the 
poetry  of  this  play. 

There  is  little  genuine  love  in  the  Merry  Wives.  The 
love-making  of  Falstaff,  although  exquisitely  comic,  is 
worthy  of  the  verdict  he  himself  pronounces  upon  it, — 
"I  do  begin  to  perceive  that  I  am  made  an  ass."  The  one 
genuine  love  scene  is  between  two  of  the  weakest  and  most 
shadowy  personages  in  the  drama — Fenton  and  Ann  Page ; 
and  this  is  evidently  intended  as  a  foil  to  the  principal 
action  of  the  play,  in  which  love  is  simply  a  matter  of 
mockery  and  intrigue.  In  this  play  love  is  a  jest, — it  is 
knavery  caught  in  its  own  snare.  Under  its  influence, 
Shakespeare's  wittiest  character  becomes  contemptible, 
and  "the  argument  of  his  own  scorn." 

Measure  for  Measure  has  no  love  scene,  properly  so-called. 
The  love  element  is  essentially  present,  but  it  is  also 
entirely  subordinate.  For,  mark  its  function, — to  create 
the  situations  out  of  which  trouble,  danger,  cowardice, 
humiliation  or  disgrace  arise  to  its  principal  subjects,  and 
dishonour,  crime  and  misgovernment  to  the  ruler,  Angelo. 
Love  is  throughout  a  disturbing  and  enfeebling  influence, 
and  the  chief  business  of  the  play  is  to  extricate  its  best 
characters  from  the  embarrassments  into  which  love  has 
plunged  them,  Here,  however,  we  find,  very  distinctly 
expressed,  the  fact  that  "  great  spirits  and  great  business 
do  keep  out  this  weak  passion."    For  the  Duke  is  the  most 

L 


146         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN   LIGHT. 

strong  in  judgment  and  sound  in  heart  of  any  of  the 
characters ;  he  it  is  who  may  be  taken  as  the  earthly 
Providence  of  the  piece  ;  he,  if  anyone,  is  the  mouth-piece 
of  the  poet  himself.  The  Duke  retires  from  public  life, 
and  in  his  seclusion  Friar  Thomas  suspects  that  some  love 
sentiment  may  be  the  motive  for  his  withdrawal,  and  for 
the  disguise  which  he  assumes.  This  idea  is  very  promptly, 
and  even  peremptorily,  repudiated,  and  in  truly  Baconian 
terms  : — 

No,  holy  father,  throw  awa}^  that  thought  ; 
Beheve  not  that  the  dribbling  dart  of  love 
Can  pierce  a  complete  bosom. 

{Mens,  for  Meas.  I.  iii.  i.) 

The  Duke  is  glancing  at  the  law  so  clearly  expounded  by 
Bacon: — ''It  seems,  though  rarely,  that  love  can  find 
entrance,  not  only  in  an  open  heart,  but  in  a  heart  well 
fortified,  if  watch  be  not  well  kept." 

The  Comedy  of  Errors  is  one  of  the  plays  from  which 
love  is  almost  entirely  excluded.  There  is  a  wooing  scene, 
but  it  is  one  of  the  "  errors  "  of  the  comedy,  and  the  issue 
of  it  is  wisely  expressed  by  the  rejected  suitor.  The 
attractions  of  a  fair  face  may  make  its  victim  untrue  to  his 
own  ends.     The  fair  lady 

Hath  almost  made  me  traitor  to  myself  : 

But,  lest  myself  be  guilty  to  self-wrong, 

I'll  stop  mine  ears  against  the  mermaid's  song. 

(Com.  of  Err.  III.  ii.  167). 

In  Much  Ado  love  is  present,  supplying  matter  for 
tragedy  in  Hero's  case,  and  for  comedy  in  Beatrice's. 
Claudio's  is  a  sentiment,  which  lightly  comes  and  lightly 
goes  ;  he  only  admits  it  when,  on  his  return  from  military 
service,  "war  thoughts  have  left  their  places  vacant;" 
and  then  he  allows  his  wooing  to  be  done  by  proxy.  The 
lovers,  in  all  cases,  are  either  the  victims  or  the  sport  of 
illusion.  The  love  of  Benedict  and  Beatrice  is  the  out- 
come of  a  practical  joke,   and  the  success  is  matter  for 


LOVE    IN    THE    COMEDIES.  _  I47 

mirth.  With  Hero  and  Claudio,  their  love  is  for  a  time 
blasted  by  a  trick,  and  their  resulting  misfortune  gives 
occasion  for  sympathy  with  that ;  but  their  love  is  kept  in 
the  background  ;  there  are  no  love  passages  to  show  its 
quality.  Benedict  expresses  the  Baconian  view  of  love 
with  amusing  frankness  : — 

I  do  much  wonder  that  one  man,  seeing  how  much  another  man 
is  a  fool  when  he  dedicates  his  behaviour  to  love,  will,  after  that  he 
hath  laughed  at  such  shallow  follies  in  others,  become  the  argument 
of  his  own  scorn,  by  falling  in  love  :  and  such  a  man  is  Claudio.  .  .   . 

and  then  he  describes  the  alteration  which  he  sees  in 
Claudio  in  consequence. 

May  I  be  so  converted,  and  see  with  these  eyes  ?  I  cannot  tell :  I 
think  not.  I  will  not  be  sworn  that  love  may  transform  me  to  an 
oyster  :  but  I'll  take  my  oath  on  it,  till  he  have  made  an  oyster  of 
me,  he  shall  never  make  me  such  a  fool.     (7^).  II.  iii.  7)- 

Love's  Labour  Lost  gives  a  truly  Baconian  view  of  love, 
as  the  disturbing  element  in  public  life,  the  foe  at  once  to 
study  and  to  business.  The  King  and  his  lords  wish  to 
make  their  Court  a  little  Academe,  and  devote  themselves 
to  study  ;  they  resolve  to  exclude  from  their  Court  all 
women,  so  as  to  run  no  risk  of  being  ensnared  by  passion 
and  sentiment.  But  in  spite  of  their  precautions,  love 
finds  an  entrance,  and  then  of  necessity  folly  comes  ;  they 
all  try  to  conceal  their  passion,  and  are  much  abashed 
when  discovered.  One  after  another  they  are  betrayed, 
and  then  Biron,  the  most  Baconian  of  all  the  speakers, 
thus  comments  on  the  situation  : — 

O  what  a  scene  of  foolery  have  I  seen. 
Of  sighs,  of  groans,  of  sorrow  and  of  teen  ! 
O  me,  with  what  strict  patience  have  I  sat, 
To  see  a  king  transformed  into  a  gnat ! 
To  see  great  Hercules  whipping  a  gig, 
And  profound  Solomon  to  tune  a  jig  ; 
And  Nestor  play  at  push-pin  with  the  boys, 
And  critic  Timon  laugh  at  idle  to_vs. 

(7^.  IV.  iii.  163). 


I4S  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIF.S    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

There  is  plenty  more  of  this  kind  of  pleasantry,  and  the 
same  note  of  folly  and  confusion  is  still  found,  even  when 
the  news  of  the  death  of  the  King  of  France  banishes  all 
idle  mirth.  Still  Biron  moralises  in  truly  Baconian 
language  :— 

For  your  fair  sakes  have  we  neglected  lime, 
Play'd  foul  play  with  our  oaths.     Your  beauty,  ladies. 
Hath  much  deformed  us  ;  fashioning  our  humours 
Even  to  the  opposed  ends  of  our  intents. 

{lb.  V.  ii.  765.) 

Of  course,  the  poet  who  writes  thus  might  have  written — 
"  Love,  if  it  check  with  business,  troubleth  men's  fortunes, 
and  maketh  men  that  they  can  no  ways  be  true  to  their 
own  ends." 

Therefore,  ladies, 
Our  love  being  yours,  the  error  that  love  makes 
Is  likewise  yours  ;  we  to  ourselves  prove  false, 
B}^  being  once  false,  for  ever  to  be  true 
To  those  that  make  us  both, — fair  ladies,  you. 

{lb.  V.  ii.  780.) 

Here  then  is  Bacon's  most  distressing  presentation  of 
love,  reproduced  with  cynical  frankness  in  Shakespeare. 

In  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream,  again,  love  is  a  toy — the 
sport  of  imps,  summoned  or  dismissed  by  charms  and 
magic  arts.  All  the  lovers  are  more  or  less  bewitched — 
the  stateliest  of  them  bestows  her  blandishments  on  the 
head  of  an  ass, — they  all  surrender  their  individuality  and 
become  puppets,  whose  strings  are  pulled  by  fairies.  Here 
also  we  see  love  and  madness  coupled  together,  because 
the  subjects  of  both  have  "seething  brains,"  and  "shaping 
fantasies,"  that  apprehend 

More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends. 

The  madman  "sees  more  devils  than  vast  hell  can  hold," 
while  the  lovers'  delusions,  though  less  infernal  are  "all 
as  frantic,"  for  he  "sees  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of 
Egypt."     The  passion  of  Titania  for  the  clown  Bottom  is. 


LOVE    IN    THE    COMEDIES.  149 

a  parable,  and  carries  its  moral.  Those  who  censure 
Bacon  should  have  something  to  say  about  the  cynicism 
of  the  poet  who  allows  Titania  to  give  her  heart  to  Bottom. 
The  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream  is  full  of  Baconian  senti- 
ments about  love.  Can  anything  be  more  typical  than 
the  following.     Bottom  speaks  to  Titania  : — 

Reason  and  love  keep  little  company  now-a-days  :  the  more  the 
pity  that  some  honest  neighbours  will  not  make  them  friends. 

(M.  N.  D.  III.  i.  146.) 

On  this  play  Professor  Brandes  makes  the  following 
significant  comment — "It  is  a  lightly  flowing,  sportive, 
lyrical  fantasy,  dealing  with  love  as  a  dream,  a  fever,  an 
allusion,  an  infatuation,  and  making  merry  especially  with 
the  irrational  nature  of  the  instinct.  .  .  .  Shakespeare 
is  far  from  regarding  love  as  an  expression  of  human 
reason.  Throughout  his  works,  indeed,  it  is  only  by  way 
of  exception  that  he  makes  reason  the  determining  factor 
in  human  conduct.  The  germs  of  a  whole  philosophy  of 
life  are  latent  in  the  wayward  love  scenes  of  a  Midsummer 
Nighfs  Dream."  And  it  is  not  a  little  obvious  to  add  that 
this  philosophy  of  life  is  the  philosophy  of  Bacon's  Essay. 

The  Merchant  of  Venice  contains  some  of  the  most 
exquisite  love  scenes  ever  invented.  But  even  here,  love 
is  not  the  main,  nor  the  most  attractive  business  of  the 
play,  and  the  entrance  into  love  is  either  blind  or  wilful, 
and  in  all  cases  quite  unheroic.  Portia's  choice  in  love  is 
determined  by  lottery.  Nerissa's  is  a  shadow  of  Portia's  ; 
Jessica's  is  a  runaway  match,  in  which  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  calculated  self-seeking ;  her  love  makes  her  a 
rebellious  and  undutiful  child,  an  apostate  to  her  faith,  and 
a  pilferer.     Here  also 

Love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 

The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit. 

{Mcr.  of  Veil.  II.  vi.  36.) 

And  the  lady,   Portia,  whose  love  is  the  most  pure  and 


150  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

exalted,  does  not  forget  how  nearly  allied  are  love  and 
weakness,  especially  if  love  is  ardent,  and  does  not  "keep 
quarter :  '" — 

0  love,  be  moderate,  allay  thy  ecstasy, 

In  measure  rein  th}-  joy  ;  scant  this  excess  ; 

1  feel  too  much  thy  blessing  ;  make  it  less 

For  fear  I  surfeit. 

{lb.  III.  ii.  iii.j 

The  love  scenes  in  As  You  Like  It  are  exquisite  pictures 
of  either  rustic  simplicity  or  Arcadian  sport.  The  rustic 
lovers,  "natives  of  the  place,"  do  not  show  love  in  any 
ennobling  light.  The  maiden  is  cruel  and  scornful ;  the 
swain  is  abject  and  pitiful, — but  the  love  is  on  the  abject 
and  pitiful  side.  The  courtly  lovers,  who  woe  in  the 
forest,  present  love  as  a  comedy ;  the  lady  masquerading 
as  a  boy,  and  playing  with  the  weakness  of  her  lover,  who 
was  quite  willing  to  be  manipulated  as  a  marionette,  if  he 
may  thus  indulge  his  fanc3\  Touchstone's  love  is  abso- 
lutely unreal  and  fantastic.  All  the  love  incidents  illustrate 
the  sentiment  which  is  the  keynote  of  all  this  part  of  the 
drama. 

How  many  actions  most  ridiculous 

Hast  thou  been  drawn  to  by  thy  fantasy  : 

which  Touchstone  repeats  in  other  phrasing  : — 

We  that  are  true  lovers  run  into  strange  capers  :  but  as  all  is 
mortal  in  nature,  so  is  all  nature  in  love  mortal  in  foil}'. 

And  Rosalind,  hearing  such  a  slander  on  her  own  condi- 
tion, is  yet  forced  to  admit  that  there  is  some  truth  in 
the  impeachment, — 

Thou  speakest  wiser  than  thou  art  ware  of.    (See  II.  iv.  26 — 60.) 

This  play  is  exceptionally  affluent  in  descriptions  of  the 
manner,  and  behaviour,  and  appearance  of  lovers.  The 
characteristic  signs  are  thus  described  : — 

A  lean  check,  a  blue  eye  and  sunken  ;   an  unquestionable  spirit 


LOVE    IN   THE    COMEDIES.  I5I 

[i.e.,  unsociable,  not  inclined  to  talk],  a  beard  neglected  ;  ungartered 
hose  ;  the  shoe  untied  ;  and  everything  about  you  demonstrating  a 
careless  desolation.  (As  You  Like  It,  III.  ii.  392) 

"Love  is  merely  a  madness,"  and  deserves  its  ordinary 
treatment,  viz.,  a  dark  house  and  a  whip.  Rosahnd 
describes  the  sort  of  behaviour  she  put  on  when  she 
was  acting  the  part  of  a  lover  : — 

At  which  time  would  I,  being  a  moonish  youth,  grieve,  be  effemi- 
nate, changeable,  longing  and  liking,  proud,  fantastical,  apish, 
shallow,  inconstant,  full  of  tears,  full  of  smiles,  for  every  passion 
something,  and  for  no  passion  truly  anything,  .  .  .  would  now  like 
him,  now  loathe  him,  then  entertain  him,  then  forswear  him,  now 
weep  for  liim,  then  spit  at  him,  that  I  drave  my  suitor  from  his  mad 
humour  of  love  to  a  living  humour  of  madness.       (lb.  III.  ii.  420). 

Nothing  can  be  more  exquisitely  pictured  ;  every  scene 
is  enchanting,  but  it  is  folly,  weakness,  self-immolation 
that  is  depicted  in  the  love  passages  of  this  delicious  frame- 
work of  Arcadian  romance  and  simplicity.  As  in  the 
"Dream,"  the  natural  comment  of  the  sportive  outsider  is, 
"  Lord,  what  fools  these  mortals  be." 

In  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew  there  is  no  real  love  making. 
All  the  wooing  is  based  on  self-interest,  none  on  genuine 
attraction.  There  is  much  wooing  and  some  marrying, 
but  no  love.  The  only  serious  moral  is  that  spoken  by 
Katherine,  after  she  is  tamed  : — 

Now  I  see  our  lances  are  but  straws. 

Our  strength  as  weak,  our  weakness  past  compare. 

(Tain,  of  Shreii:  V.  ii.  173). 

In  AlVs  Well,  no  male  character  submits  to  the  assault 
of  the  tender  passion,  except  in  gross  forms.  Bertram 
resists  its  approach,  and  treats  it  with  scorn.  Helena's 
love  is  strong  and  faithful,  but  folly  and  weakness  attend 
it.  Her  love  is  given  to  an  inaccessible  and  unresponsive 
idol, 

I  know  I  love  in  vain,  strive  against  hope  : 
Yet  in  this  captious  and  intenible  sieve 


152  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

I  still  pour  in  the  waters  of  my  love. 

{All's  Weill,  iii.  207). 

She  is  content  to  bring  her  husband  to  her  arms  by  a 
loathsome  trick,  pandering  to  his  vices,  and  winning  him 
in  spite  of  liimself.  The  play  is  full  of  love  ;  but,  with  the 
doubtful  exception  of  Helena,  the  ennobling,  invigorating 
side  of  love  is  entirely  absent. 

Twelfth  Night  shows  us  a  royal  suitor  making  futile  love 
by  proxy,  and  at  last  content  to  wed,  not  the  lady  of  his 
choice,  but  the  maiden  who  had  fallen  into  presumably 
hopeless  love  with  him,  whom  he  had  employed  as  a  page, 
and  known  only  in  this  disguise.  A  similar  game  of  cross- 
purposes  unites  Olivia  and  Sebastian,  neither  of  whom 
loved  the  other,  but  made  their  love  contract  under  an 
illusion  of  mistaken  identity.  Love  in  Viola  is  most 
attractive,  full  of  poetry  and  charm,  and  she  is  the  only 
one  whose  passion  is  naturally  requited.  In  all  the  other 
cases  the  love  passages  are  fantastic  and  irrational,  and  are 
patched  and  mended  by  the  evolution  of  fortunate  blunders. 
Even  here  the  Baconian  estimate  of  love  is  not  omitted. 
The  Duke  says  to  Viola,  his  supposed  page-boy : — 

Come  hither,  boy  :  if  ever  thou  shalt  love, 
In  the  sweet  pangs  of  it,  remember  me. 
For  such  as  I  am,  all  true  lovers  are, — 
Unstaid  and  skittish  in  all  motions  else, 
Save  in  the  constant  image  of  the  creature 
That  is  belov'd. 

{Twelfih  Night  II.  iv.  14). 

But  of  all  the  plays  (except  Othello  and  Antony  and 
Cleopatra),  it  is  in  the  Winter's  Tale  that  we  find  Bacon's 
philosophy  of  love  and  business  embodied  in  the  most 
striking  dramatic  effects.  Prince  Florizel  is  a  typical 
instance  of  the  "  mad  degree  of  love":  his  passion  "checks 
with  business,"  and  makes  him  "  untrue  to  his  own  ends." 
That  he  may  possess  Perdita,  whom  he  only  knows  as  a 
low-born  peasant  girl,  he  is  ready  to  give  up  his  princely 
birthright,   surrender  his  succession  to  the  crown,   brave 


LOVE    IN   THE    COMEDIES.  I53 

the  anger  of  his  father,  and  bring  danger  not  only  on 
himself,  but  on  the  maiden  of  his  choice  and  all  her  sup- 
posed relations.  Nothing  can  be  more  reckless  and 
irrational  than  his  love  vows  :— 

Or  I'll  be  thine,  my  fair, 

Or  not  my  father's.     For  I  cannot  be 

Mine  own,  nor  anything  to  any,  if 

I  be  not  thine.     To  this  I  am  most  constant, 

Though  destiny  say.  No  ! 

{lb.  IV.iv.  42). 

In  repl}^  to  his  father's  threats  he  exclaims:^ 

From  my  succession  wipe  me,  father,  I 
Am  heir  to  my  affection. 
Camillo. — Be  advised  ! 

Flor. — I  am,  and  by  my  fancy  :  if  my  reason 

Will  thereto  be  obedient,  I  have  reason  ; 

If  not,  my  senses,  better  pleased  with  madness, 

Do  bid  it  welcome 

(76.  491). 

Here  is  clearly  an  example  illustrating  Bacon's  keen  remark : 
''  He  that  preferred  Helena,  quitted  the  gifts  of  Juno  and 
Pallas :  for  whoever  esteemeth  too  much  of  amorous 
affection,  quitteth  both  riches  and  honour."  The  fantastic 
apology  for  the  wooing  of  a  peasant  by  a  prince,  presents 
us  with  a  very  Baconian  picture  of  love  and  its  precedents 
of  folly  :— 

Apprehend 
Nothing  but  jollity.     The  gods  themselves. 
Humbling  their  deities  to  love,  have  taken 
The  shapes  of  beasts  upon  them.     Jupiter 
Became  a  bull,  and  bellow'd  ;  the  green  Neptune 
A  ram,  and  bleated  :  and  the  fire-robed  god, 
Golden  Apollo,  a  poor  humble  swain, 
As  I  seem  now. 

{Ih.  IV.  iv.  24). 

So  then  we  find  Shakespeare  comparing  his  lovers  to  such 
curious  cattle  as  divinities  transformed  to  bellowing  bulls, 


154         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

or  bleating  rams,   or  humble  swains.     Bacon  could  not 
belittle  them  more  effectually. 

Love  Always  Subordinate  in  Shakespeare. 

g.  This  hasty  glance  over  the  entire  Shakespearean  drama 
fully  confirms  the  opinion  of  many  critics,  that  in  Shake- 
speare, more  than  in  any  other  dramatist,  love  and  passion 
are  subordinate  ;  they  are  rarely,  if  ever,  the  leading  motive 
of  the  play.  And  they  bring  before  us  the  unexpected 
conclusion  that  what  is  condemned  as  cynical  or  hard  in 
Bacon  is  reflected  with  singular  exactness  in  nearly  all  the 
Shakespearean  plays, —  in  many  cases  with  almost  verbal 
accuracy.  Evidently  the  poet  was  not  primarily  occupied 
with  rhapsodies  of  sentiment  or  passion  :  his  chief  aim  is 
to  embody  in  life-like  forms  the  deepest  results  of  his 
moral,  social  and  political  studies.  In  this  respect  the 
Poet  and  the  Essayist  are  absolutely  alike.  Shakespeare, 
like  Bacon,  is  an  ethical  teacher,  a  moralist,  a  philosopher, 
a  statesman,  devoted  to  the  largest  issues  of  public  life, — 
full  of  world-embracing,  statesmanlike  wisdom,  familiar 
with  all  sides  of  Court  hfe  and  politics, — and  to  these  aims 
all  his  music,  his  rhetoric,  his  fancy  are  subordinated.  So 
much  is  this  the  case,  that  about  half  of  his  plays  are  never 
put  on  the  boards,  and  probably  were  never  intended  for 
the  theatre,  being  quite  unsuitable  for  scenic  effect.  It  is 
surely  a  most  significant  fact,  that  the  greatest  of  all 
dramatists  has  written  so  large  a  proportion  of  plays  which 
must  be  valued,  not  for  their  scenic  merits,  but  for  quite 
other  reasons.  Troilus  mid  Crcssida,  and  Timon,  for 
instance,  could  not  have  been  written  by  a  stage  manager, 
making  copy  for  his  boards,  looking  chiefly,  or  in  any  way, 
at  the  market  value  of  his  poetical  inventions.  Even 
Hamlet,  attractive  as  it  is,  if  it  were  produced  without 
abridgment,  would  be  intolerable.  Shakespeare  was 
evidently  more  a  philosophical  teacher  than  a  caterer  for 
popular  amusement.  If  he  had  been,  he  would  have  used 
love  and  passion,  with  its  romance,  much  more  freely,  and 


VARIOUS   ATTRACTIONS    IN    SHAKESPEARE.  155 

made  them  much  more  prominent.  We  should  not  find 
that  in  about  thirteen  of  the  thirty-seven  plays  love  is 
almost  or  entirely  absent,  and  that  in  all  the  rest  Bacon's 
view  of  love  is  clearly  reflected.  If  we  run  over  the  list, 
and  pick  out  those  plays  which  are  more  or  less  suitable 
for  the  stage,  and  are  actually  produced,  we  shall  find  that 
only  about  twenty  out  of  the  thirty-seven  still  hold  the 
boards,  and  of  these,  seven  or  eight  are  rarely  given,  even 
by  Shakespeare  societies,  which  often  select  for  representa- 
tion those  plays  which  are  never  produced  under  pro- 
fessional auspices.  The  pla3^s  which  one  has  a  chance  of 
seeing  on  the  boards  are  Henry  IV.  (rarely),  Henry  V., 
Richard  HI.,  Henry  VHI.,  Coriolanus,  Julius  Ccesar, 
Macbeth,  Tempest,  Hamlet,  Lear,  Othello.  Merry  Wives, 
Much  Ado,  Merchant  of  Venice,  As  You  Like  It,  Midsummer 
Nighfs  Dream,  Twelfth  Night,  Winter's  Tale,  and  Romeo 
and  Juliet.  Of  these,  only  in  the  last  five  is  love  very 
prominent.  In  the  rest  we  go  to  the  theatre  to  laugh  at 
or  with  Falstaff,  to  see  Hotspur's  high-bred  impetuosity, 
the  moral  contrasts  of  Prince  Hal,  the  audacity  of  Richard's 
villany,  the  sorrows  and  visions  of  Queen  Catherine,  the 
grandeur  and  abasement  of  Wolsey,  the  patrician  pride 
and  insolence  of  Coriolanus,  the  eloquence  of  Mark  Antony, 
the  headlong  career  of  Macbeth,  the  enchantments  of 
Prospero,  the  musings  of  Hamlet,  the  agony  of  Lear,  the 
devilry  of  lago,  the  torture  of  Othello  and  Desdemona, 
the  merry  raillery  of  Benedict  and  Beatrice,  the  bucolic 
dignity  of  Dogberry,  the  ferocity  of  Shylock,  the  fascina- 
tion of  Portia  and  her  pretty  impersonation  of  bad  law  and 
poetic  justice,  the  cynical  moralizing  of  Jacques,  the  jests 
of  Touchstone,  the  wit  and  tenderness  of  Rosalind,  and  so 
forth.  Almost  invariably  love  keeps  quarter,  it  retires 
into  the  background,  and  the  main  business  of  the  play  is 
independent  of  it.  This  is  exactly  what  might  be  expected 
from  the  poet-philosopher,  who  declares  that  love  limits 
the  range  of  mortal  vision,  and  is  "  a  very  narrow  contem- 
plation "    {Antitheta    36),    and    yet    can,    per   contra,     say 


15b  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

also,  "There  is  nothing  that  better  regulates  the  mind 
than  the  authority  of  some  powerful  passion." 

Love  in  the  Minor  Poems. 

10.  The  Minor  Poems  tell  the  same  story.  Lucrece  is  a 
commentary  on  Bacon's  aphorism,  "Martial  men  are  given 
to  love,"  taking  its  pleasures  as  payment  for  perils  ;  for 
Lucrece,  in  her  eloquent  pleadings  with  Tarquin,  flings  at 
him  the  reproach, — 

A  martial  man  to  be  soft  fancy's  slave  ! 

(Lucrece  I.  200). 

and  the  whole  poem,  in  its  various  phases  and  sections, 
illustrates  Bacon's  wise  suminary  of  the  whole  of  his 
essay  : — "  Nuptial  love  maketh  mankind  ;  friendly  love 
perfecteth  it  ;  but  wanton  love  corrupteth  and  embaseth  it." 
Collatine,  Brutus,  and  Tarquin  represent  these  three  types, 
and  Lucrece  herself  touches  all  these  aspects  of  love. 

Venus  and  Adonis  is  full  of  exquisite  pictures  of  passion 
and  love  conflict ;  but  they  are  assuredly  not  charged  with 
any  lofty  ideal  or  exalted  morality, — the  sentiment  of  love 
is  presented  romantically,  but  not  with  any  high  and 
ennobling  features.  The  real  moral  of  the  poem  is  to  be 
found  in  the  closing  stanzas,  in  which  the  Baconian  view 
of  love  is  again  reproduced  with  almost  audacious  frank- 
ness. The  goddess,  in  her  grief  at  the  death  of  Adonis, 
breaks  out  into  melancholy  moralizing  and  poetic 
prophecy  :  it  is  worth  while  quoting  the  lines  as  a  speci- 
men of  what  Vernon  Lee  calls  "Baconian  thoughts  in 
Baconian  language  : — 

Since  thou  art  dead,  lo  !  here  I  proplies}' ; 

Sorrow  on  love  hereafter  sliall  attend  ; 
It  shall  be  waited  on  with  jealousy  ; 

Find  sweet  beginning  but  unsavoury  end  ; 
Ne'er  settled  equally,  but  high  or  low, 
That  all  love's  pleasure  shall  not  match  his  woe. 


VENUS  S    INVECTIVE    AGAINST    LOVE.  157 

It  shall  be  fickle,  false,  and  full  of  fraud ; 

Bud  and  be  blasted  in  a  breathing-while  ; 
The  bottom  poison,  and  the  top  o'erstrawed 
With  sweet,  that  shall  the  truest  sight  beguile. 
The  strongest  body  shall  it  make  most  weak, 
Strike  the  wise  dumb,  and  teach  the  fool  to  speak. 

It  shall  be  sparing, — and  too  full  of  riot  ; 

Teaching  decrepit  age  to  tread  the  measures  ; 
The  staring  ruffian  shall  it  keep  in  quiet, 

Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treasures. 
It  shall  be  raging-mad,  and  silly-mild. 
Make  the  young  old,  the  old  become  a  child. 

It  shall  suspect,  where  is  no  cause  of  fear  ; 

It  shall  not  fear,  where  it  should  most  mistrust  ; 
It  shall  be  merciful,  and  too  severe. 
And  most  deceiving  where  it  seems  most  just. 

Perverse  it  shall  be  where  it  shows  most  toward, 
Put  fear  to  valour,  courage  to  the  coward. 

It  shall  be  cause  of  war  and  dire  events  ; 

And  set  dissension  'twixt  the  son  and  sire ; 
Subject  and  servile  to  all  discontents, 
As  dry  combustious  matter  is  to  fire  ; 

Sith  in  his  prime  Death  doth  my  love  destroy, 
They  that  love  best  their  loves  shall  not  enjoy. 

Love  Lyrics. 

If  we  turn  to  the  remaining  poems,  we  find  the  same 
pictures  of  love  blended  with  folly  or  disaster.  This  is 
the  theme  of  the  Lover's  Complaint  and  of  the  little 
poem,  "Beauty  is  but  a  vain  and  doubtful  good."  But  to 
find  out  all  the  lyrical  utterances  of  the  Shakespearean 
poet  we  must  search  the  Elizabethan  Song  Books.  There 
is  a  large  collection  of  these  in  "  England's  Helicon,"  I 
have  not  the  least  doubt  that  this  collection  was  made  by 
Bacon  ;  his  royal  and  antithetic  style  is  unmistakable  in 
the  prose  dedications  and  prefaces ;  and  his  Shakespeare 
mantle  is  spread  over  quite  a  large  number  of  the  poems. 
All  the  twenty-five   lyrics   signed   "  Ignoto  ;  "    the  seven 


158  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

signed  "Shepherd  Tony  ;  "  probably  those  signed  S.E.D., 
A.W.,  and  H.S.  are  Shakespearean.  It  would  be  foreign 
to  my  present  topic  to  pursue  this  subject  further ;  I  ven- 
ture, however,  to  commend  them  to  all  who  delight  in  the 
lyric  music  and  matchless  English  of  Shakespeare.  The 
collection  is  indeed  priceless.  I  will  quote  one  to  shew 
how  Bacon's  and  Shakespeare's  picture  of  love — its  asso- 
ciation with  folly  and  disaster — is  reproduced  in  these 
poems.  It  is  called  An  Invective  against  Love.  The 
exquisitely  articulated  structure  of  the  poem,  the  perpetual 
antithesis,  the  metaphors  and  sentiments  most  character- 
istic of  Shakespeare,  the  rich  and  abundant  thought,  the 
crystaline  clearness  and  felicity  of  every  phrase,  point 
unmistakably  to  the  true  author  :  as  Mr.  Gerald  Massey 
found  in  another  typical  instance  (See  2nd  Edition  of  his 
book  on  the  Sonnets,  p.  459  ;  but  see  fuller  comments  in 
the  ist  Edition,  p.  465),  The  poem  now  to  be  quoted  is 
attributed  to  "  Ignoto "  in  the  Prefatory  Table:  but  in 
Davidson's  "  Rhapsody"  it  is  attributed  to  A.W.  (Bullen). 
Evidently  the  authorship  is  a  very  open  question.  The 
metre  is  the  same  as  that  of  Venus  and  Adonis,  and  the 
versification  resembles  that  poem  in  quite  a  remarkable 
way. 

All  is  not  gold  that  sliineth  bright  in  show  ; 
Nor  every  flower  so  good  as  fair  to  sight  : 
The  deepest  streams  above  do  calmest  flow, 
And  strongest  poisons  oft  the  taste  delight  : 
The  pleasant  bait  doth  hide  the  harmful  hook, 
And  false  deceit  can  lend  a  friendly  look. 

Love  is  the  gold  whose  outward  hue  doth  pass, 
Whose  first  beginnings  goodly  promise  make 
Of  pleasures  fair  and  fresh  as  summer  grass, 
Which  neither  sun  can  parch  nor  wind  can  shake  ; 
But  when  the  mould  should  in  the  fire  be  tried, 
The  gold  is  gone,  the  dross  doth  still  abide. 

Beauty  the  flower  so  fresh,  so  fair,  so  gay. 
So  sweet  to  smell,  so  soft  to  touch  and  taste, 


A    POEM    BY    IGNOTO.  159 

As  seems  it  should  endure,  by  right,  for  aye, 

And  never  be  with  any  storm  defaced  : 

But  when  the  baleful  southern  wind  doth  blow. 
Gone  is  the  glory  which  it  erst  did  show. 

Love  is  the  stream  whose  waves  so  calmly  flow, 
As  might  entice  men's  minds  to  wade  therein  ; 
Love  is  the  poison  mix'd  with  sugar  so, 
As  might  by  outward  sweetness  liking  win  ; 
But  as  the  deep  o'erflowing  stops  thy  breath. 
So  poison  once  received  brings  certain  death. 

Love  is  the  bait  whose  taste  the  fish  deceives, 
And  makes  them  swallow  down  the  choking  hook, 
Love  is  the  face  whose  fairness  judgment  reaves. 
And  makes  thee  trust  a  false  and  feigned  look  : 
But  as  the  hook  the  foolish  fish  doth  kill, 
So  flattering  looks  the  lover's  life  doth  spill. 

Conclusions. 

12.  To  sum  up  :  after  producing  the  evidence,  I  con- 
clude that  the  objection  to  the  Baconian  theory  derived 
from  Bacon's  treatment  of  love,  is  not  only  not  sustained 
by  detailed  examination,  but  the  logical  bearing  of  the 
comparison  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  that  which  is  claimed 
for  it.  The  Shakespearean  view  of  love,  so  far  from  con- 
flicting with  the  Baconian,  is  curiously,  and  most 
significantly  identical  with  it.  So  remarkably  is  this  the 
case,  that  the  parallel  between  them  adds  new  force  to 
our  contention  that  Bacon  was  the  real  author  of 
Shakespeare.  It  is  admitted  that  Bacon's  treatment  of 
love  is  something  startling  and  unexpected,  something 
which,  in  some  respects,  even  his  admirers  would  wish  a 
little  softened  or  modified,  or  at  least  qualified  by  con- 
trasting lights  or  supplementary  considerations.  Perhaps 
no  one  can  accept  it  without  some  distaste  and  resistance. 
Love  is  so  enthroned  in  our  hearts'  belief — and  is,  in  fact, 
so  essentially  Divine  in  its  nature  and  origin — that  we  are 
unprepared  for  the  relentless  judgment  which  forbids  its 


l6o         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

intrusion  into  public  life,  and  requires  of  it  to  keep 
rigorous  quarter  in  the  seclusion  of  privacy.  Yet  this  view 
is  textually  reproduced  in  Shakespeare.  The  poetry,  v^hen 
it  is  translated  into  didactic  forms,  teaches  precisely  the 
same  lessons  as  the  prose. 

The  ^thiope. 

13.  As  an  additional  confirmation  of  the  identity  of  the 
two  we  may  point  to  a  passage  in  the  "New  Atlantis," 
where  the  Spirit  of  Fornication  "appeared  as  a  little  foul 
ugly  i55^thiope."  In  no  other  sense  is  this  word  ever  used 
in  Shakespeare.  Proteus,  when  he  is  tired  of  Julia,  and 
has  transferred  his  passion  to  Sylvia,  says, 

And  Sylvia,  witness  heaven  that  made  her  fair, 
Shows  JuHa  but  a  swarthy  Etliiopc. 

(Tivo  Gent.  II.  vi.  25.) 

Rosalind  in  her  gay  mockery  of  a  rustic  love  letter 
speaks  of — 

yEthiope  words,  blacker  in  their  effect 
Than  in  their  countenance. 

{As  You  Like  II IV.  iii.  35). 

In  "  Much  Ado,"  Claudio  expresses  his  willingness  to 
marry  Antonio's  daughter,  to  replace  Hero,  supposed  to  be 
dead  :  and  he  thus  expresses  his  resolve — 

I'll  hold  my  mind  were  she  an  ^^thiope. 

{lb.  V.  iv.  38.) 

and  Lysander  spurns  Hermia  with  the  words, 

Away  !  you  JFAhio'pc. 

Midsiunmcr  Night's  Dream  III.  ii.  257. 

Scorn  and  disgust  for  some  hated  woman  is  the  invariable 
application  of  this  word  in  Shakespeare — as  in  the  "New 
Atlantis." 


ASPECTS   THAT   PROCURE    LOVE.  l6l 

Love  Engendered  in  the  Eye. 

14,  It  is  not  a  little  curious  that  Shakespeare  very  often 
speaks  of  fancy,  or  love,  as  "  engendered  in  the  eyes,  with 
gazing  fed."  {Mer.  Ven.  III.  ii.  67).  This  is  not  a  mere 
poetic  fancy,  it  is  stated  by  Bacon  as  a  scientific  fact. 
"  The  affections  no  doubt  do  make  the  spirits  more  power- 
ful and  active ;  and  especially  those  affections  which  draw 
the  spirits  into  the  eyes;  which  are  two,  love  and  envy, 
which  is  called  oculus  mains  .  ,  .  and  this  is  observed  like- 
wise, that  the  aspects  that  procure  love,  are  not  gazings, 
but  sudden  glances  and  dartings  of  the  eye."  {Syl.  Syl., 
944).  This  shcf\vs  us  that  the  phrase  quoted  from  the 
Merchant  of  Venice  means  that  love  is  not  only  engendered 
by  gazing,  but  fed  by  it  after  it  has  been  engendered  by  a 
flash  from  the  eye.  This  theory  is  expounded,  with  much 
amplification  and  abundant  citation  of  classic  authorities, 
in  Burton's  "Anatomy  "  (III.  ii.  2,  2).  The  same  psycho- 
logic theory  is  implied  in  Olivia's  self-analysis  of  the 
sudden  impulse  by  which  her  love  to  Viola  has  arisen  :— 

Even  so  quickly  may  we  catch  the  plague  ! 
Methinks  I  feel  this  youth's  perfections 
With  an  invisible  and  subtle  stealth 
To  creep  in  at  mine  eyes. 

(Twelfth  Niglit  I.  v,  314.) 

So   Cymbeline,    conceiving   a   sudden   attachment   to   the 
disguised  Imogen,  says, — 

Boy, 

Thou  hast  looked  thyself  into  my  grace, 

And  art  mine  own. 

(Cymb.  V.  v.  93). 

The  two  notes  of  sudden  creation,  and  the  origin  in  the 

eye  are  to  be  observed  in  all  these  passages,  as  in  the  Syl. 

Syl.      The    same    idea    is    implied    when    Antipholus    of 

Syracuse,   professing    himself    in    love,    "  not    made,    but 

mated,"  is  told  by  Luciana, 

:si 


l62  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    I.I(;HT. 

It  is  a  fault  that  springcth  from  your  eye. 

(Com.  El.  III.  ii.  55). 

The  ''affections  which  draw  the  spirits  into  the  eyes  " 
are  described  in  detail,  in  Love's  L.  Lost  II.  i.  234 — 247  : — 

All  his  behaviours  did  make  their  retire 
To  the  court  of  his  eye,  peeping  thorough  desire  : 
His  heart,  like  an  agate,with  your  print  impress'd. 
Proud  with  his  form,  in  his  eye  pride  express'd  ; 
His  tongue,  all  impatient  to  speak,  and  not  see, 
Did  stumble  with  haste  in  his  eyesight  to  be  : 
All  senses  to  that  sense  did  make  their  repair 
To  feel  only  looking  on  fairest  of  fair. 
Methinks  all  his  senses  were  lock'd  in  his  eye, 
As  jewels  in  crystal,  for  some  prince  to  buy. 

The  same  idea  is  expressed  by  JuHet :  — 

I'll  look  to  love,  if  looking  liking  move  ; 
But  no  more  deep  will  I  endart  mine  eye 
Than  your  consent  gives  strength  to  make  it  fly. 

(Koiii.  'Jul.  I.  iii.  97). 

Mr.  Neil's  note  on  this  passage  is  as  follows  :  "  In  the 
Nichomachean  Ethics,  Book  IX.,  chapter  x,,  Aristotle 
says  that,  'Good  will  is  conceived  instantaneously,'  that 
'  Good  will  is  the  prelude  to  friendship  exactly  as  the 
pleasure  of  the  eye  is  the  prelude  to  love,'  and  Shakespeare 
has  put  this  opinion  into  verse  when  he  says  of  Fancy,  as 

love. 

It  is  engendered  in  the  e3^es, 

With  gazing  fed.  {Mcr.  Vcii.lU.u.  67). 

This  agrees  with  Plato's  suggestion  in  the  Cratylus, 
that  "epws  love,  is  derived  from  da-pdi',  streaming  into,  or 
influx."  Here  is  another  instance  in  which  the  poet,  with 
his  "small  Latin  and  less  Greek,"  shews  intimate 
acquaintance  with  some  of  the  most  subtle  and  recondite 
teachings  of  Plato  and  Aristotle. 

All  these  passages,  with  many  others,  clearly  echo 
Bacon's  Promus  Note  (1137),  equally  applicable  to  poetry 
and  philosophy.      "The  eye  is  the  gate  of  the  affection, 


LOVE    AND    REASON    SEPARATE.  163 

but  the  ear  of  the  understanding,"  i.e.,  when  any  affection 
takes  possession  of  the  spirit,  it  enters  into  possession  by 
the  avenue  of  the  eye.  It  is  a  very  subtle  notion.  Both 
in  the  scientific  statement  and  in  the  poetry  love  is  said 
to  spring  from  the  eye,  not  merely  of  the  object,  but  of 
the  subject.  Burton  says  that  "  Balthazar  Castiho  calls 
the  eyes  .  .  .  the  lamps  of  love,"  so  that  in  the  words 
of  Troilus  we  may  detect  the  Baconian  theory  of  love,  and 
put  a  more  definite  interpretation  upon  them  : — 

To  feed  for  aye  her  lamps  and  flames  of  love. 

{Tro.  Crcs.  III.  ii.  167). 

These  lamps  and  flames  are  the  eyes,  which  are  to  be  fed 
by  gazing  on  the  appropriate  object. 

Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander  gives  expression  to  the 
same  philosophy.     Hero  is  at  the  altar  of  Venus  :  — 

There  Hero,  sacrificing  turtles'  blood, 
Vailed  to  the  ground,  veiling  her  eyelids  close  ; 
And  modestly  they  opened  as  she  rose  : 
Thence  flew  love's  arrow,  with  the  golden  head, 
And  thus  Leander  was  enamoured. 

{Hero  and  Leander  I.  158). 

The  eye  thus  both  gives  and  receives  the  dart. 

Folly  and  Love  Connected  Generally. 

15.  As  a  corollary  to  this  discussion  of  Bacon's  Essay  of 
^'  Love  "  it  is  important  to  observe  that  his  view  of  love  as 
e.ssentially  blended  with  folly  is  but  part  of  a  larger  philo- 
sophy, in  which  the  same  conjunction  of  folly  with  all 
strong  emotion  or  enthusiasm  is  assumed  as  a  metaphysical 
axiom,  a  law  of  psychology.  That  love  in  all  its  depart- 
ments is  blind  is  a  maxim  constantly  applied,  both  in  the 
poetry  and  the  prose.  The  detailed  interpretation  of  the 
classical  attributes  of  Cupid  in  the  Midsummer  Nighfs 
Dream,  and  elsewhere,  might  add  another  chapter  to 
Bacon's  "Wisdom  of  the  Ancients."     And  it  is  evident. 


164         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

that  what  is  said  of  love,  may  be  said  of  rapture  generally. 
Helena  speaks  : — 

He  will  not  know  what  all  but  he  do  know  : 

And  as  he  ens,  doting  on  Hermia's  eyes. 

So  I,  admiring  of  his  qualities. 

Things  base  and  vile,  holding  no  quantity, 

Love  can  transpose  to  form  and  dignity. 

Love  looks  not  with  the  eyes,  but  with  the  mind, 

And  therefore  is  wing'd  Cupid  painted  blind. 

Nor  hath  Love's  mind  of  au}^  judgment  taste, 

Wings,  and  no  eyes,  figure  unheedy  haste. 

And  therefore  is  Love  said  to  be  a  child. 

Because  in  choice  he  is  so  oft  beguiled. 

As  waggish  boys  in  game  themselves  forswear, 

So  the  boy  love  is  perjured  everywhere. 

{Midsii miner  Night's  Dream  L  i.  229). 

Now  Bacon  links  love  and  folly  in  a  very  extensive  way,, 
and  very  curiously.  In  the  Proinus  we  find  this  singu- 
lar bit  of  antique  French,  "  Un  amoreux  fait  totijours. 
qiielqtie  folagne"  (1532) — meaning,  I  presume,  one  who  is 
in  love  is  always  doing  something  ridiculous.  And  Bacon,, 
with  his  wonted  habit  of  giving  a  large  amplification  and 
application  to  particulars,  symbolic  or  didactic,  applies 
this  principle  to  the  love  which  is  expressed  by  any  kind 
of  enthusiasm.  Thus  he  finds  in  this  maxim  a  fantastic 
apology  for  his  eagerness  in  giving  advice  when  it  was  not 
asked:  He  sends  his  counsels  and  suggestions,  he  hopes^ 
"without  committing  any  absurdity  :  " — "  But  if  it  seem 
any  error  for  me  thus  to  intromit  myself,  I  pray  your 
Lordship  believe  that  I  ever  loved  her  Majesty  and  State,, 
and  now  love  yourself:  and  there  is  never  any  vehement  love 
without  some  absurdity  ;  as  the  Spaniard  well  saitlv 
Desnario  con  la  calentura"  ("Life,"  HI.  46). 

Later  in  life  he  makes  the  same  apology  to  the  Prince 
when  he  sent  to  him  his  "Considerations  touching  a  War 
with  Spain  "  : — "  Hoping  that  at  least  you  will  discern  the 
strength  of  my  affection  through  the  weakness  of  my 
abilities.     For  the  Spaniard  hath  a  good  proverb,  Desuaria 


SANCTITY  :  LOVE  :  STRANGENESS.  165 

siempre  con  la  calentura  :  there  is  no  heat  of  affection  but 
is  joined  with  some  idleness  of  brain  "  {lb.  VII.  470). 

And  in  his  discourse,  addressed  to  the  King,  on  planta- 
tion in  Ireland  (January  ist,  i6o8-g),  he  hopes  that  his 
Majesty  "  will  through  the  weakness  of  my  ability  discern 
the  strength  of  my  affection  "  {lb.  IV.  117). 

The  same  sentiment  is  connected  with  the  proverb  Amarc 
et  sapere  vix  deo  conccditur.  Bacon  in  his  prose  nowhere 
quotes  this  proverb  completely,  only  partially.  But  when 
it  is  translated  into  Shakespearean  verse,  it  is  given 
entire  : — 

But  3-ou  are  wise  ; 
Or  else  you  love  not ;  for  to  be  wise  and  love 
Exceeds  man's  might;  that  dwells  with  gods  above. 

{Tro.  Crcs.  III.  ii.  162). 

In  the  Essay  of  "Love,"  it  is  thus  quoted:  "And 
therefore  it  was  well  said  that  it  is  impossible  to  love  and  be 
loise.'''  In  "Burton's  Anatomy"  it  is  quoted  in  full, 
^'Amare  et  sapere  ipsi  Jovi  non  concediticr,  as  Seneca  holds  " 
(Part  III.  ii.  3).  In  the  last  sentence  of  the  Statesman's 
speech  in  Bacon's  "Device"  it  is  thus  imperfectly  pro- 
duced : — "  So  that  I  conclude  I  have  traced  him  the  way 
to  that  which  hath  been  granted  to  some  few,  amare  et 
sapere,  to  love  and  be  wise"  ("Life,"  I.  383). 

Thus  not  only  love  but  all  high  emotion  is  more  or 
less  detached  from  wisdom.  Rapture  and  reason  belong 
to  different  types  of  nature  and  different  departments  of 
conduct  or  action. 

From  all  these  passages  we  may  infer  that  what,  in 
Bacon's  view,  is  foolish  in  some  respects,  may  yet  be  very 
interesting,  and  associated  even  with  wisdom  in  counsel 
and  action;  and  that  however  much  he  may  dwell  upon 
the  folly  and  unwisdom  of  lovers,  he  can  at  the  same 
time  admire  the  beauty,  sincerity,  depth,  and  fervour  of 
the  passion,  and  even  find  in  the  expression  of  it  some- 
thing both  "comely"  and  useful. 

It  is  true  that  the  follv  of  lovers  has  been  a  shaft  for  the 


l66         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

wits  of  all  ages ;  but  there  is  this  difference  between 
Bacon's  wit  and  that  which  is  current  in  the  jests  of 
other  men.  Other  jesters  note  the  folly,  and  only  laugh 
at  it,  they  do  not  reason  upon  it.  With  Bacon  it  is 
generalized,  and  finds  its  proper  place  in  the  philosophy 
of  human  nature :  he  takes  its  measure,  and  traces  its 
ramifications  in  other  departments  of  action,  besides 
wooing.  So  also  in  Shakespeare,  the  folly  of  lovers  is  not 
merely  an  occasion  for  fun  and  quizzing;  it  is  an  ascer- 
tained settled  fact,  to  be  reckoned  with  in  any  large 
portraiture  of  human  nature  and  its  activities.  Under 
all  the  toying  and  laughter,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the 
poet  had  a  grounded  and  reasoned  opinion  that  love  is 
always  associated  with  some  sort  of  weakness  and  folly, 
and  yet  that  with  all  this  it  is  excellently  fair  and  attrac- 
tive. Thus  the  folly  and  the  beauty  are  blended;  he  does 
not  jest  in  one  mood  and  admire  in  another  ;  one  occasion 
evokes  both  sentiments,  and  in  his  laughter  there  is  no  scorn. 
As  he  finds  wisdom  and  folly  united  in  actual  life,  he 
has  no  hesitation  in  presenting  the  same  blend  in  his  art, 
which  he  has  found  in  his  philosophy. 


167 


CHAPTER     X. 

PHILOSOPHICAL    MAXIMS. 

I.  —  Mines     and     Forges. 

The  business  of  the  philosopher,  according  to  Bacon's 
view,  may  be  divided  into  two  departments — the  one 
devoted  to  research,  the  other  to  refining,  or  working  up 
material  into  fabric — in  his  picturesque  language,  digging 
in  the  mine,  or  working  at  the  forge.  The  digger  in  the 
mine  is  called  the  Pioner,  or,  as  we  write  it,  pioneer.  In 
the  military  language  of  his  time,  the  soldier  who  digs 
under  ground,  the  sapper  or  miner,  is  the  pioner.  This 
pioner  stands  in  his  mind  as  the  symbol  of  the  enquirer 
into  truth.  Early  in  life  he  was  impressed  with  a  saying 
of  Democritus,  that  Truth  did  lie  in  deep  pits;  and  in  his 
failure  to  obtain  occupation  in  the  service  of  the  State,  he 
told  his  uncle,  Lord  Burghley,  that  he  had  almost  resolved 
to  "  give  over  all  care  of  service,  and  become  some  sorry 
book-maker,  or  a  true  pioner  in  that  mine  of  truth  which 
Democritus  said  lay  so  deep"  ("Life,"  1.  log).  The  pioner 
is  therefore,  in  Bacon's  eyes,  one  who  is  working  under- 
ground, digging  for  treasure,  or — extending  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  word  by  analogy — it  may  be  digging  for 
treason  or  warfare;  for  the  process  of  mining  may  be 
applied  to  undermining.  To  these  several  uses  the  word 
is  applied  by  Bacon  at  different  periods  of  his  life.  Thus 
in  the  year  1592,  in  his  "  Observations  on  a  Libel,"  he 
writes  : — "  Nay,  even  at  this  instant,  in  the  kingdom  of 
Spain,  notwithstanding  the  pioners  do  still  work  in  the 
Spanish  mines,  the  Jesuits  must  play  the  pioner  and  mine 


l68  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

into  the  Spaniards'  purses,  and,  under  colour  of  a  ghostly 
exhortation,  contrive  the  greatest  exaction  that  ever  was 
in  any  realm."  In  his  speech,  or  charge,  agai  st  Owen, 
he  speaks  of  "Priests  here,  .  .  .  which  be  so  many  pioners 
to  undermine  the  State."  In  March,  1622,  after  his  fall, 
he  offers  service  to  the  King,  saying,  "I  shall  be  glad  to 
be  a  labourer,  a  pioner  in  your  service." 

In  the  "  History  of  Henry  VII.,"  Bacon,  speaking  of  the 
imperfect  information  available  in  reference  to  the  Simnell 
plot,  adds  : — "  We   shall    make  our  judgment    upon    the 
things  themselves,  as  they  give  light  to  one  another,  and, 
as  we  can,  dig  truth  out  of  the  mine."     And,  describing 
the  King's  treatment  of  Perkin  Warbeck's  conspiracy,  and 
the   spies   and    enquirers    he    employed,    he    tells    us : — 
"  Others  he  employed  in  a  more  special  nature  and  trust, 
to  be  his  pioners  in  the  main  countermine."      And,  in  a 
passage  which  we  shall  immediately  shew  to  have  a  curious 
affinity  with  Shakespearean  usage,  he  says  that  Henry  em- 
ployed secret  spials,  because  "  he  had  such  moles  perpetually 
working  and  casting  to  undermine  him."     Also,  Bacon  says 
of  Richard  III.  : — "  Even  in  the  time  of  King  Edward,  his 
brother,   he  was  not  without  secret  trains  and  mines  to 
turn    envy  and   hatred    upon  his   brother's  government." 
And,  after  describing   some  of  the  precautions  taken  by 
Henry  against    Perkin    Warbeck's   conspiracy,    he   adds  : 
"  But   for   the  rest,   he  chose  to   work  by  countermine." 
We  find  that  Bacon  made  an  entry  in  his  Proinus  (1395), 
"  Pioner  in  the  mine  of  truth,"   as  a  hint  worth  remem- 
bering and  storing  as  a  help  for  invention;  and  we  shall 
find  that  in  this  case,   as  in  so  many  others,  the  purpose 
of  the  entry  is  partly  explained  by  its  reflection  in  Shake- 
speare. 

The  word  pioner,  in  its  original,  military  use,  is  found  in 
Henry  V.  The  scene  is  at  Harfleur  and  the  siege  is  being 
prosecuted  by  help  of  mining  operations.  Gower  asks, 
"  How  now.  Captain  Alacmorris,  have  you  quit  the  mines  ? 
have  the  pioners  given  o'er  ?  "  (III.  ii.  gi).      And  the  same 


DIGGING    IN    THE    MINES.  l6g 

sense  is  found  in  Othello  III.  iii.  345.  "  The  general  camp 
pioners  and  all "  the  miners  and  pioners  being  the  soldiers 
of  least  estimation,  to  whom  the  hardest  manual  toil  was 
assigned. 

The  saying  of  Democritus  must  have  been  in  the  poet's 
mind,  when  he  makes  Polonius,  eagerly  volunteering 
service  to  the  King,  say,  "  I  will  find  where  truth  is  hid, 
though  it  were  hid  indeed  within  the  centre."  {Ham.  II. 
ii.  157).  And  as  Bacon  calls  these  pioners  and  spies,  moles, 
so  the  same  figure  is  used  by  Shakespeare.  The  ghost  has 
been  seconding  Hamlet's  wish  that  the  events  of  that  night 
should  be  kept  secret.  "  Swear  !  "  he  says  from  below  the 
ground  :  and  again  "  Swear  !  "  after  they  had  shifted  their 
places ;  on  which  Hamlet,  his  excitement  making  him 
almost  hysterical,  half  laughing,  half  weeping,  exclaims, 

Well  said  old  Mole,  can'st  work  i'  the  earth  so  fast  ? 

A  woiihy  pioucr ! 

(Ham.  I.  V.  162). 

These  words  occur  in  the  early  Quarto  of  1604. 

Bacon's  division  of  philosophers  into  those  who  dig  and 
those  who  refine,  is  very  clearly  reflected  in  one  remark- 
able instance.  First,  let  us  see  how  Bacon  himself  ex- 
presses this  distinction.  In  the  2nd  Book  of  the  "Advance- 
ment," we  find  the  following  : — 

"  If  then  it  be  true  that  Democritus  said.  That  the  truth  of 
nature  lieth  hid  in  certain  deep  mines  and  caves  ;  and  if  it  be 
true  likewise  that  the  Alchemists  do  so  much  inculcate,  that 
Vulcan  IS  a  second  nature,  and  imitateth  that  dexterously 
and  compendiously  which  nature  worketh  by  ambages  and 
length  of  time  ;  it  were  good  to  divide  natural  philosophy 
into  the  mine  and  the  furnace,  and  to  m.ake  two  pro- 
fessions of  natural  philosophers,  some  to  be  pioners,  and 
some  smiths ;  some  to  dig,  and  some  to  refine  and 
hammer."     (Works  III.  351). 

Now  when  Dramatic  art,  ignoring  the  unities,  brings  on 
the  stage  a  kingdom,  a  battle  between  countless  combatants, 


I/O  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

or  events  that  take  years  for  their  accompHshment — "Jump- 
ing o'er  times,  turning  the  accomplishment  of  many  years 
into  and  hour-glass"  {Hen.  V.  I.  Prol.)— the  poet  does  that 
which  Vulcan  is  represented  as  doing, — he  "  imitates 
dexterously  and  compendiously  that  which  nature  worketh 
by  ambages  and  length  of  time,"  his  mind  is  the  forge  in 
which  this  fabric  is  wrought.  And  this  conception  of 
dramatic  art  is  clearly  expressed  in  the  Prologue  to  the  5th 
Act  of  Henry  V. 

Vouchsafe  to  those  that  have  not  read  the  story, 
That  I  may  prompt  them  :  and,  of  such  as  have, 
I  humbly  pray  them  to  admit  the  excuse 
Of  time,  of  numbers  and  due  course  of  things, 
Which  cannot  in  their  huge  and  proper  Hfe 
Be  here  presented. 

These  lines  express  clearly  the  idea  of  Dramatic  Art  as 
overcoming  the  ambages  of  time  and  experience.  And 
that  this  was  actually  in  the  poet's  mind  becomes  perfectly 
clear  in  the  subsequent  repetition  of  the  same  sentiment: — 

But  now  behold 
In  the  quick  forge  and  working  house  of  thought. 
How  London  doth  pour  out  her  citizens,  &c. 

This  exactly  corresponds  to  another  statement  of  the  same 
philosophical  axiom  : — "  It  is  the  duty  and  virtue  of  all 
knowledge  to  abridge  the  circuits  and  long  ways  of  experi- 
ence (as  much  as  truth  will  permit)  and  to  remedy  the 
ancient  complaint  that  life  is  short  and  art  is  lo7ig."  {Dc 
Aug.  III.  iv). 

Here  then,  we  find  Bacon's  forge  in  Shakespeare  long 
before  it  was  published  in  the  "Advancement."  The 
forge  re-appears  frequently  in  both  groups  of  writings. 
Bacon  speaks  of  the  "Wits  of  men,  which  are  the  shops 
wherein  all  actions  are  forged,"  and  of  the  sanctuaries, 
where  criminals  found  shelter  as  "the  forges  of  all  his 
troubles."  In  the  poems  we  find  "Come!  to  the  forge 
with  it  then  ;    shape  it ;    I  would  not  have  things  cool." 


NATURE    CONTROLLED    BY    MIRx\CLE.  171 

{Mer.  W.  IV.  ii.)  (last  speech).  "  I  should  forge  quarrels 
unjust  against  the  good  and  loyal  ;  destroying  them  for 
wealth."     {Much.  IV.  iii.  8i):  and  in  other  places. 

2, — Miracles  and  Misery. 

Bacon's  Essay  of  "  Adversity  "  was  not  published  till  the 
last  complete  edition  of  the  Essays  appeared  in  1625.  It  is 
one  most  often  quoted  as  a  specimen  of  his  richest  and 
most  poetic  style.  Macaulay  uses  it  to  justify  his 
criticism  that  Bacon's  poetic  fancies  became  more  ample 
and  exuberant  as  he  grew  older.  The  following  passage 
occurs  in  it: — "Certainly,  if  miracles  be  the  command 
over  nature,  they  appear  most  in  adversity  :  " — a  short 
sentence,  but  one  full  of  condensed  wisdom.  Notice  in  it 
two  things  : — 

1.  Bacon's  definition  of  a  miracle  :  the  command  over 
nature. 

2.  Bacon's  philosophy  of  adversity: — it  gives  oppor- 
tunity for  such  self-denial  and  self-control  as  are  equivalent 
to  miracle,  by  the  command  over  nature  thus  displayed. 

Here  we  find  the  philosophical  or  abstract  sentiment. 
For  a  concrete  illustration  of  the  same  we  may  turn  to 
King  Lear.  In  the  second  scene  of  the  second  act,  Kent 
appears  before  Gloster's  Castle.  It  is  night.  He  has 
beaten  the  steward  who  had  been  insolent  to  the  King. 
Regan  and  Cornwall  appear.  They  overpower  him,  and 
put  him  in  the  stocks,  and  leave  him  there  for  the  night. 
He  is,  now,  in  the  deepest  pit  of  adversity  ;  far  from  his 
friends ;  in  the  power  of  his  enemies,  who  are  likely  to 
torture  or  kill  him  as  soon  as  morning  comes,  and  he  is 
taken  out  of  the  stocks.  The  situation  would  seem  to 
justify  the  most  utter  despondency.  But  Kent  rises  above 
the  situation.  He  had  before  said  to  the  steward  : 
"Though  it  be  night,  yet  the  moon  shines;  "  and  now  by 
its  light,  which  he  calmly  salutes  as  "  comfortable  beams,'" 
he  reads  a  letter.     He  is  astonished   at   his  own  almost 


172         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

miraculous  composure,  aud  soon  after  falls  asleep.  It  is  a 
miracle  of  command  over  nature.  And  so  he  regards  it, 
for  he  meditatively  exclaims, — 

"  Nothing  almost  sees  miracles 
But  misery."  {LcarU.  ii.  172). 

Showing  that  (i)  Bacon's  definition  of  a  miracle  and  (2) 
Bacon's  philosophy  of  adversity,  were  both  in  his  mind, 
although  he  does  not    expressly  formulate  them.       The 
sentence  as  it  stands  is  sybilline,  and  somewhat  obscure. 
We  cannot  find  a  complete  clue  to  Kent's  meaning  till  we 
bring  Bacon's  Essay  to  help  out  the  significance   of  it. 
And  the  reflection  is  so  subtle  and  original  that  it  must 
have  come  from  the  same  mind  that  wrote  the  Essay  ; 
which,  observe,  was  published  17  years  after  the  Quarto 
edition  of  the  play,  and  nine  years  after  Shakspere's  death. 
But  this  does  not  complete  the  curious  significance  of 
this  passage.     King  Lear  was  published  in  Quarto  in  1608. 
In  the  early  editions  the  same  passage  occurs,  but  in  such 
a  mutilated  form  that  no  conjecture,  however  sagacious, 
could  ever  have  extracted  the  right  reading  from  words 
which,  even  when  amended,  are  rather  enigmatical.      The 
Quartos  have, — 

"  Nothing  almost  sees  my  -iiTackc 
But  misery." 

This  is  almost  nonsense.  If  "my  wracke "  is  taken  as 
the  nominative  to  the  verb  sees  in  an  inverted  sentence — 
my  wrecked  state  sees  only  misery  before  it — this  is  exactly 
what  Kent  does  ]wt  wish  to  express.  For  his  whole 
behaviour,  his  sense  of  the  "comfortable"  quahty  of  the 
moonlight,  his  reading  the  letter  by  its  imperfect  light, 
and  then  going  to  sleep,  shows  that  his  mind  is  not 
occupied  by  his  misery,  but  by  the  strange  faculty  of 
ignoring  it  which  possesses  him.  My  wracke  is  evidently 
a  corruption  of  miracle.  Who  but  the  author  could  have 
supplied  the  emendation  ?     At  no  time  could  a  transcen- 


ADVERSITY    SEES    MIRACLES.  173 

dentalism  of  this  character — a  piece  of  mystic  philosophy — 
have  been  "  floating  in  the  air." 

It  must  be  noted  that  different  copies  of  the  Quartos 
vary,  and  in  one  the  words  my  wracke  are  printed  as 
my  rackles.  This  approximation  to  the  true  reading  is,  I 
believe,  only  found  in  one  copy,  which  is  in  the  Bodleian 
Library.     All  the  rest  have  7ny  wracke. 

The  ready  explanation  of  this  will  be  that  the  Quarto 
was  a  surreptitious  copy  obtained  from  a  shorthand  writer's 
notes,  and  that  the  1623  folio  was  printed  from  the  author's 
own  MS.  Those  who  can  be  satisfied  with  this  account  of 
the  genesis  of  the  Quarto  are  welcome  to  their  theory. 
To  me  it  appears  in  the  highest  degree  artificial  and 
improbable.  We  know,  however,  from  the  peculiarities 
of  the  Northumberland  House  MS.  that  Bacon  was  in  the 
habit  of  dictating  to  an  amanuensis.  It  is  certainly 
possible  that  Lear  was  so  dictated  for  the  4to.  edition. 
The  mechanical  clerk  heard  the  word  miracle,  and  did  not 
rightly  catch  the  word.  The  error  was  not  detected,  and 
remained  uncorrected  till  the  1623  edition  was  published. 

The  interpretation  of  this  passage,  which  is  sug- 
gested by  the  passage  from  Bacon's  Essay,  will,  I 
think,  commend  itself  to  every  thoughtful  reader. 
It  is  obviously  right.  But  it  is  not  the  interpretation 
which  commentators  have  suggested.  One  of  them 
paraphrases  the  passage  thus  : — "  It  is  only  when 
things  are  at  their  worst  that  Providence  interposes  with 
a  miracle  ; "  a  far  more  commonplace  sentiment,  and  one 
also  which  does  not  exactly  fit  the  words.  For  there  is  in 
them  a  profound  reference  to  the  vision  which  adversity 
sees,  and  which  remains  as  a  secret  for  itself.  The  rescue 
by  miracle  would  be  seen  by  others  :  the  miracle  here 
referred  to  is  seen  only  by  the  subject  of  it. 

It  is  worth  remark  that  the  same  definition  of  a  miracle 
is  found  in  the  Essay  on  the  "  Vicissitude  of  Things," 
published  in  1625,  "  For  Martyrdoms  I  reckon  them  among 
miracles,  because  they  seem  to  exceed  the  strength  of 
human  nature." 


174      shakespeare  studies  in  baconian  light. 

3, — Sunshine  Everywhere. 

One  of  Bacon's  frequently  recurring  aphorisms  is  that 
sunshine  penetrates  even  dunghills  and  cloaca,  and  yet  is 
not  thereby  defiled.  So  must  it  be  with  science  and 
philosophy :  its  beams  must  visit  the  foulest  as  well  as  the 
most  fragrant  places,  yet  it  still  retains  its  purity,  and  the 
knowledge  so  gained  ranks  in  value  with  other  knowledge. 
For  the  sentiment  has  two  aspects  or  facets  :  that  relating 
to  the  study  of  evil  or  polluted  things  ;  and  that  relating  to 
the  knowledge  so  derived. 

Thus,  in  the  Novum  Orgamun  I.  120,  Bacon  vindicates 
for  science  the  right,  even  the  duty,  to  investigate  even 
filthy  things  : — 

"And  for  things  that  are  mean,  or  even  filthy,  things 
which  (as  Pliny  says)  must  be  introduced  with  an  apology, 
such  things,  no  less  than  the  most  splendid  and  costly, 
must  be  admitted  into  natural  history.  Mor  is  natural 
history  polluted  thereby,  for  the  sun  enters  the  sewer  no 
less  than  the  palace,  yet  takes  no  pollution.  .  .  .  W'hat- 
ever  deserves  to  exist  deserves  also  to  be  known,  for 
knowledge  is  the  image  of  existence ;  and  things  mean  and 
splendid  exist  alike.  Moreover,  as  from  certain  putrid 
substances — musk  for  instance  and  civet — the  sweetest 
odours  are  sometimes  generated,  so  too  from  mean  and 
sordid  instances  there  sometimes  emanates  excellent  light 
and  information.  But  enough,  and  more  than  enough 
of  this  :  such  fastidiousness  being  merely  childish  and 
effeminate." 

The  other  side  of  this  sentiment  refers  to  the  necessity 
for  those  who  enter  into  human  affairs  to  know  the  evil 
arts  of  bad  men,  as  well  as  the  pure  arts  of  good  men.  In 
the  third  of  the  Mcditationes  Sacrce  this  rule  is  well 
expounded,  as  follows  : — 

"  For  men  of  corrupt  understanding,  that  have  lost  all 
sound  discerning  of  good  and  evil,  come  possessed  with 
this  prejudicate  opinion,   that  they  think  all  honesty  and 


KNOWING    THE    DEEPS    OF    SATAN,  175 

goodness  proceedeth  out  of  a  simplicity  of  manners,  and  a 
kind  of  want  of  experience  and  unacquaintance  with  the 
affairs  of  the  world."  Therefore  he  infers  that  those  who 
aspire  to  "a  fructifying  and  begetting  goodness,  which 
should  draw  on  others,"  should  know  the  "deeps  of  Satan," 
— should  be  wise  as  serpents  and  harmless  as  doves.  ' '  There 
are  neither  teeth  nor  stings,  nor  venom,  nor  wreaths  and 
folds  of  serpents,  which  ought  not  to  be  all  known,  and,  as 
far  as  examination  doth  lead,  tried.  Neither  let  any  man 
here  fear  infection  or  pollution  :  for  the  sun  entereth  into 
sinks  and  is  not  defiled." 

Bacon  very  frequently  enforces  the  same  axiom,  and  it 
is  usually  illustrated  by  the  universality  of  sunshine,  which 
is  equally  pure,  whether  it  lights  on  sweetness  or  on 
carrion. 

Bacon's  illustration  of  the  sweet  scent  called  civet  being 
derived  from  the  mephitic  civet  cat,  is  echoed  in  Shake- 
speare. Lear  in  his  madness  exclaims,  "  Give  me  an  ounce 
of  civet,  good  apothecary,  to  sweeten  my  imagination." 
{Lear  IV.  vi.  131).  And  the  King  in  his  earlier  and  more 
sane  mood  had  said  :  "  Thou  owest  the  worm  no  silk, 
the  beast  no  hide,  the  sheep  no  wool,  the  cat  no  perfume." 
{lb.  III.  iv.  108).  And  with  a  similar  reference  Touch- 
stone says:  "Civet  is  of  a  baser  birth  than  tar,  the  very 
uncleanly  flux  of  a  cat."     {As  You  Like  It  III.  ii.  60). 

The  philosophical  attitude  towards  things  evil  is  very 
accurately  expressed  by  Falconbridge,  the  Bastard,  in  King 
John,  who  proposes  to  himself  to  study  the  arts  by  which 
men  rise,  bad  and  good  ;  not  that  he  may  imitate  them, 
but  be  prepared  either  to  use  or  to  thwart  them. 

For  he  is  but  a  bastard  to  the  time 
That  doth  not  smack  of  observation  ; 
(And  so  am  I,  whether  I  smack  or  no); 
And  not  alone  in  habit  and  device, 
Exterior  form,  outward  accoutrement, 
But  from  the  inward  motion  to  deliver 
Sweet,  sweet,  sweet  poison  for  the  age's  tooth; 
Which,  though  I  will  not  practise  to  deceive, 


176         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Yet,  to  avoid  deceit,  I  mean  to  learn  : 

For  it  shall  strew  the  footsteps  of  my  rising, 

{John  I.  i.  207). 

In  other  words,  Falconbridge  resolves  to  know  as  Bacon 
even  more  poetically  expresses  it,  all  the  deeps  of  Satan, 
the  stings,  the  venom,  the  serpentine  wreaths  which  must 
be  known  by  any  one  who  aspires  to  govern  others.  Sir 
Walter  Scott  quotes  part  of  this  passage  to  illustrate  the 
maxim,  "There  is  much  in  life  which  we  must  see,  were 
it  only  to  shun  it."   (See  "  Fortunes  of  Nigel,"  Chap.  XII). 

The  axiom  that  everything  must  be  known,  evil  as  well 
as  good,  is  used  in  justification  of  the  wild  young  Prince 
Hal,  who  associates  with  low  company  for  this  very 
laudable  purpose  : — 

The  prince  but  studies  his  companions. 
Like  a  strange  tongue,  wherein,  to  gain  the  language, 
'Tis  needful  that  the  most  immodest  word 
Be  look'd  upon  and  learn'd  :  whicli  once  attain'd. 
Your  Highness  knows,  comes  to  no  further  use, 
But  to  be  known  and  hated  .  .  .  their  memor}^ 
Shall  as  a  pattern  or  a  measure  live 
By  which  his  grace  must  mete  the  lives  of  others. 
Turning  past  evils  to  advantages. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iv.  70). 

The  universality  of  sunshine  is  also  referred  to.  Thus 
Henry  V.,  when  in  camp  at  Agincourt,  visits  and  talks  to 
the  rank  and  file  of  his  army,  as  well  as  to  his  friends  or 
the  nobles  and  officers  : — 

A  largess  universal,  like  the  sun. 

His  liberal  eye  doth  give  to  everyone. 

(Hen.  V.  IV.,  Prol.  43). 

The  lost  and  unrecognized  Princess,  Perdita,  finds 
excellent  use  for  the  same  law  at  once  of  nature  and  of 
thought,  when  the  king  discovers  that  his  son  is  her 
accepted  lover,  and  threatens  fierce  vengeance  on  her  and 
the  family  which  has  adopted  her  : — 


PHILOSOPHY    AND    POETRY    UNITED.  177 

I  was  not  much  afear'd  ;  for  once  or  twice 

I  was  about  to  speak,  and  tell  him  plainly 

The  self  same  sun  that  shines  upon  his  court 

Hides  not  his  visage  from  our  cottage,  but 

Looks  on  alike.  {Winter's  Tale  IV.  iv.  453). 

Here  we  have  a  near  approach  to  Bacon's  mode  of 
referring  to  the  universality  of  sunshine,  its  equal  radiance 
in  cottages  and  palaces,  in  sewers  and  in  temples.  This 
point  of  view  is  also  clearly  reflected  in  Shakespeare.  The 
sun  shining  on  a  dunghill  is  humourously  alluded  to  in 
Merry  Wives.  Falstaff,  flattering  himself  that  Mistress 
Page  looks  favourably  on  him,  says,  "Sometimes  the 
beam  of  her  view  gilded  my  foot,  sometimes  my  portly 
belly  ;  "  and  on  this,  Pistol  makes  the  saucy  comment — 

Then  did  the  sun  on  dunghill  shine. 

{Merry  Wives  I.  iii.  70). 

There  is  also  a  very  subtle  allusion  to  this  maxim  in 
Twelfth  Night  III.  i.  43.  The  clown  replies  to  Viola,  who  had 
told  him  that  she  had  seen  him  lately  at  Count  Orsino's  : 
"  Foolery,  sir,  doth  walk  about  the  orb  like  the  sun : 
which  shines  everywhere,"  implying  that  it  is  the  privilege 
of  a  clown  to  make  his  comments  on  everything,  he  may 
visit  palaces  as  well  as  cottages,  and  moralise  on  trifles 
which  serious  persons  would  disdain  to  notice.  This  is 
one  of  the  functions  of  Shakespeare's  fools,  to  bring 
philosophy  from  the  heights  of  heaven  to  the  lowliest 
levels  of  earth.  Lear's  fool  illustrates  this,  and  his  gibes 
and  jests  contain  a  large  amount  of  Baconian  philosophy. 
The  same  charter  of  freedom  for  folly,  in  its  comments 
and  moralising  is  claimed  by  Jacques.  He  has  been 
listening  to  Touchstone's  talk,  and  envies  him  his  freedom 
of  discourse  : — 

0  that  I  were  a  fool, 

I  am  ambitious  for  a  motley  coat  ....  it  is  my  only  suit. 

1  must  have  liberty. 
Withal,  as  large  a  charter  as  the  wind, 

To  blow  on  whom  I  please,  for  so  fools  have. 

{As  You  Like  It  II.  vii.  42 


178         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Here  we  see  the  identification  of  philosophy  and 
homehest  common  sense — the  reflection  of  Bacon's  Hfe- 
long  mission,  to  rescue  philosophy  from  the  subtleties  of 
the  schools,  and  bring  it  into  relation  with  all  that  concerns 
the  "  business  and  the  bosoms  "  of  men. 

4.  The  Genesis  of  Poetry. 

One  of  Bacon's  remarks  about  poetry  is  very  striking 
and  original.  In  his  "Advancement  of  Learning,"  he  is  very 
busy  cataloguing  the  deficiencies  in  science  and  study, 
that  have  yet  to  be  supplied.  Poetry,  however,  is  not  a 
deficient,  it  grows  spontaneously  everywhere: — "In  this 
part  of  learning  [he  says],  I  can  report  no  deficience.  For 
being  a  plant  that  cometh  of  the  lust  of  the  earth  without 
a  formal  seed,  it  hath  sprung  up  and  spread  abroad  more 
than  any  other  kind."     (Works  III.  346). 

This  very  peculiar  description  of  the  Natural  History  of 
Poetry  is  exactly  re-produced  in  Timon  of  Athens.  But  the 
"  plant  without  a  formal  seed  "  is  not  referred  to  in  general 
terms  ;  it  is  named.  It  is  a  gum,  growing  without  seed, 
which  breaks  out  unbidden  on  the  surface  where  it  is 
found.  In  Timon  it  is  the  poet  himself  who  thus  describes 
the  growth  of  his  art : 

A  thing  slipp'd  idly  from  me  : 

Our  poesy  is  as  a  gum  which  oozes 

From  whence  'tis  nourished.     The  fire  i'  the  flint 

Shows  not  till  it  be  struck  :  our  gentle  flame 

Provokes  itself,  and  like  the  current  flies 

Each  bound  it  chafes.  (Timoii  I.  i.  20). 

The  words  "a  thing  slipp'd  idly  from  me,"  bring  up  by 
natural  association  that  theory  of  the  birth  of  poetry  which 
the  poet-philosopher  had  already  formed  in  his  mind.  It 
is  a  plant  growing  spontaneously  in  a  luxuriant  soil, 
\  coming  "of  the  lust  of  the  earth,"  not  sown,  a  birth  of 
the  soil  itself,  a  gum  which  oozes  from  the  surface  which 
nourishes  it,  a  self-ignited  flame  kindled  by  a  stroke,  a 
stream  that  bounds  along  by  an  irresistible  current.      It 


THE    SPREAD    OF    MONEY.  179 

does  not  matter  which  metaphor  we  use  ;  all  express  the 
same  idea.  If,  however,  the  analogy  of  a  seedless  plant 
is  the  original  form  of  the  conception,  it  could  not  be 
more  felicitously  transfigured  than  by  its  metamorphosis 
into  a  gum  which  oozes  from  the  exuberant  sap  of  the 
tree  on  which  it  grows,  springing  really  from  the  lust 
of  the  special  plot  of  earth  which  nourishes  it.  Bacon's 
account  of  the  genesis  of  poetry  is  itself  poetry  of  the 
richest  quality  ;  and  although  expressed  in  prose,  it  is,  as 
the  play  shews,  easily  transformed  into  poetry  full  of 
music  and  metaphor.  There  is  no  impassable  chasm  be- 
tween the  two,  and  there  is  no  antecedent  improbability 
in  the  idea  that  both  forms  of  expression,  the  prose  and 
the  poetic,  were  used  by  the  same  mind. 

5. — Money  and  Muck. 

Bacon  often  alludes  to  the  principle  that  money  ought 
not  to  be  monopolized  by  a  few,  but  spread,  like  garden 
compost  or  manure,  over  the  state,  for  the  enriching  of  the 
many.  In  his  "  Paper  of  Advice  "  as  to  the  application  of 
Sutton's  estate,  he  says: — 

"Thus  have  I  briefly  delivered  unto  your  Majesty  my 
opinion  touching  the  employment  of  this  charity,  whereby 
the  mass  of  wealth  that  was  in  the  owner  little  better  than 
a  stack  or  heap  of  muck,  may  be  spread  over  your  king- 
dom to  many  fruitful  purposes."     ("  Life,"  IV.  254). 

In  the  Essay  of  "  Seditions  "  we  find  the  same  policy 
advocated  : — "Above  all  things  good  policy  is  to  be  used 
that  the  treasures  and  monies  of  a  State  be  not  gathered 
into  few  hands.  For  otherwise  a  State  may  have  a  great 
stock  and  yet  starve ;  and  money  is  like  muck,  not  good 
except  it  be  spread." 

And  in  the  Apophthegms  he  tells  us  :  "  Mr.  Bettenham 
used  to  say,  That  riches  were  like  muck  :  when  it  lay  upon 
an  heap,  it  gave  but  a  stench  and  ill  odour  ;  but  when  it 
was  spread  upon  the  ground  then  it  was  cause  of  much 
fruit."     (Ap.  252,  Works  VII.   160). 


l80         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Now  it  is  not  a  little  significant  that  the  word  muck 
occurs  only  once  in  Shakespeare,  and  in  this  passage 
Bacon's  maxim  has  not  been  recognised  by  the  commenta- 
tors, although  it  is  certainly  present — and  when  applied, 
gives  new  interest  and  meaning  to  the  passage.  The 
virtues  and  merits  of  Coriolanus  are  being  described,  in 
order  that  he  may  be  worthily  honoured.  Cominius  puts. 
a  climax  on  his  catalogue  by  telling  of  his  indifference  to 
wealth,  and  the  spoils  of  war  : — 

Our  spoils  he  kick'd  at, 
And  look'd  upon  things  precious,  as  the}'  were 
The  common  muck  of  the  world. 

(^Cor.  II.  ii.  128). 

The  only  comment  on  this  which  I  have  been  able  to 
find  is  a  suggestion  that  muck  is  equivalent  to  vilia  reriim. 
The  poet  certainly  intended  to  suggest  a  good  deal  more- 
than  this,  but  the  rich  suggestiveness  of  the  passage  cannot 
be  easily  brought  out  if  Bacon's  use  of  the  word  is  not 
remembered.  The  words  themselves  may  express  only  a 
conventional  contempt  for  riches,  which  may  be  either  noble- 
and  disinterested,  or  insincere  and  fantastical,  or  unreflec- 
*.ive  and  morbid,  or  far-seeing  and  patriotic.  Now 
Coriolanus  was  a  Statesman,  as  it  is  evident  Shakespeare 
was;  and  he  is  accustomed  to  regard  not  only  the  value,, 
or  the  accumulation,  but  also  the  distribution  of  money.. 
The  poet  represents  his  hero  as  refusing  to  heap  up  riches, 
for  himself,  because  he  looked  on  a  nation's  wealth  as  good) 
only  when  it  is  spread  over  the  kingdom  for  many  fruitful^ 
purposes;  and  likely  to  diffuse  an  ill  odour  if  it  is  too  much 
concentrated  in  a  heap.  This  is  the  true  inwardness  of  the- 
"villa  rcrum" — wealth  is  not  rubbish,  but  manure. 

6. — Past  and  Future. 

Bacon  often  dwells  on  the  rival  claims  of  antiquitv  andi 
the  present  time — the  ceaseless  strife  between  old  and  new. 
His   invariable   policy    is   to   shew   reverence    to   what   is. 


STANDING   YET   MOVING.  l8l 

established,  while  not  hesitating  to  go  beyond  and  if  neces- 
sary to  abandon  it.  So  Tennyson  tells  us  that  "Men  may 
rise  on  stepping  stones  of  their  dead  selves  to  higher 
things. "  The  following  passage  gives  a  fair  representation  of 
his  teaching.  It  is  from  the  "Pacification  of  the  Church:" — 
"  It  is  excellently  said  by  the  prophet,  State  super  vias 
antiquas,  et  videte  qucenani  sint  recta  et  vera,  ct  ambulate 
in  eis ;  so  as  he  doth  not  say  State  super  vias  antiquas  et 
ambulate  in  eis;  for  it  is  true  that  with  all  wise  and  mode- 
rate persons  custom  and  usage  obtaineth  that  reverence, 
as  it  is  sufficient  matter  to  move  them  to  make  a  stand, 
and  discover,  and  take  a  view;  but  it  is  no  warrant  to  guide 
or  conduct  them  :  a  just  ground,  I  say,  it  is  of  deliberation 
but  not  of  direction."     ("  Life,"  III.  105). 

The  same  sentiment  in  almost  the  same  words  is  found 
in  the  Essay  of  "Innovations,"  in  the  "Advancement." 
(Works  III.  291),  and  elsewhere. 

I  am  persuaded  that  the  same  idea  is  secreted  in  the 
rather  cryptic  words  of  Salisbury,  when  he  is  anticipating 
the  changes  in  the  State  that  are  impending  after  Melun's 
rebellion  is  ended  : — 

Away,  my  friends  !     New  flight  ! 
And  happy  newness  iliat  intends  old  right. 

('John  V.  iv.  60). 

Intend  is  a  very  strong  word,  peculiarly  used,  in  Shake- 
speare. The  vernacular  sense  which  contemplates  the 
future  is  included  with  the  classic  sense  which  looks  with 
fixed  and  thoughtful  gaze  on  the  present.  (See  the  section 
on  intend  in  Chapter  xiv.  The  classic  language  of  Shake- 
speare.) It  exactly  combines  this  significance  of  the  two 
Latin  words,  State  and  videte :  make  a  stand,  and  take 
a  direction;  it  connotes  a  mental  pause  and  a  prepara- 
tion for  new  action.  Nothing  could  possibly  be  more 
felicitous  than  the  introduction  of  this  Latin  word  to  ex- 
press the  meaning  which  Bacon  is  accustomed  to  express 
by  the  combination  of  two  words.  Doubtless  this  is  a 
subtle  interpretation;  but  when  Bacon's  idea  is  brought  into 


l82         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

relation  with  the  passage,  the  interpretation  is  not  far 
fetched — it  is  easy  and  natural ;  and  by  this  conjunction 
of  Bacon  with  Shakespeare,  the  words  of  the  poet  gather 
fuller  meaning  and  greatly  augmented  interest. 

7. — Impossibilities. 

Bacon  constantly  asserts  that  no  effective  advance  in 
science  can  be  made,  unless  new  methods  of  investigation 
are  used.  "  For  no  man  can  be  so  dull  as  to  believe  that 
what  has  never  yet  been  done  can  be  done,  except  by 
means  hitherto  unattempted."  ("  Hist.  Life  and  Death," 
Works  V.  267).  He  preaches  a  noble  discontent : — 
"  Men  do  not  rightly  understand  either  their  store  or 
their  strength,  but  over-rate  the  one  and  under-rate  the 
other."  "  Whatever  any  art  fails  to  attain,  they  set  down 
as  impossible  of  attainment  "  (Preface  to  Novum  Organum). 
This  canon  of  impossibility  he  is  never  tired  of  resisting. 
Two  classical  passages,  one  from  Virgil,  the  other  from 
Livy,  are  repeatedly  produced  in  this  argument.  Possunt 
quia  posse  videntit^r — what  seems  possible  becomes  possible. 
And  NihU  airAcl  qua'n  bene  austis  Vana  contenmere :  refer- 
ring to  Alexander  the  Great — all  he  did  was  to  venture 
greatly  and  despise  idle  apprehensions. 

One  reason  for  the  stationary  condition  of  the  sciences 
is  that  "the  logicians  receive  as  conclusive  the  immediate 
information  of  the  sense."  But  "the  testimony  and 
information  of  the  sense  has  reference  always  to  man,  not 
to  the  universe;  and  it  is  a  great  error  to  assert  that  sense 
is  the  measure  of  things." 

These  maxims  are  often  repeated  and  much  amplified 
in  Bacon's  writings;  but  for  my  immediate  purpose  these 
expressions  of  them  are  sufficient. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  writer  of  AlVs  Well  that  Ends  Well 
had  these  principles  in  view  when  he  represents  the  cure, 
in  the  case  of  the  King,  of  a  disease  which  all  his  physicians 
had  pronounced  incurable. 

He  hath  abandoned  his  physicians,  under  whose  practices  he  hatli 


SUCCESS    BY   VENTURING.  183 

persecuted  time  with  liope,  and  finds  no  otlier  advantage  in  the 
process,  but  only  the  losing  of  hope  by  time.      {All's  Well  I.  i.  12). 

The  central  thought  of  AlTs  Well  is — Possunt  quia  posse 
videntur. 

Helena  has  a  remedy  which  she  knows  is  likely  to  be 
effectual,  and  she  scouts  the  assumption  of  impossibility 
which  the  physicians  had  pronounced  ;  who  made  their 
own  senses  and  attainments  the  measure  of  things  and  the 
limits  of  possibility  : — 

The  fated  sky 
Gives  us  free  scope,  only  doth  backward  pull 
Our  slow  designs  when  we  ourselves  are  dull  .  .  . 
Impossible  be  strange  attempts  to  those 
That  weigh  their  pains  in  sense,  and  do  suppose 
What  hath  been  cannot  be.  {lb.  I.  i.  239). 

It  is  not  so  with  Him  that  all  things  knows 
As  'tis  with  us  that  square  our  guess  by  shows. 

{lb.  II.  i.  152). 

And  what  impossibility  would  slay 

In  common  sense,  sense  saves  another  way. 

{lb.  180). 

In  these  passages  we  may  recognize  the  idea  expressed 
in  the  6th  Axiom  of  Novum  Organum  I.  : — "Insanum  I 
quiddam  esset,  et  in  se  contrarium,  existimare  ea,  quae 
adhunc  nunquam  facta  sunt  fieri  posse,  nisi  per  modos 
adhunc  nunquam  tentatos."  "It  is  a  wild  and  self-  \ 
contradictory  fancy  to  suppose  that  those  things  which 
have  never  been  accomplished  can  be  done  at  all  except  by 
the  use  of  methods  hitherto  untried."  What  is  impossible 
by  ordinary  procedure  becomes  possible  when  we  can  find 
out  "  another  way  "  of  acting.  The  rather  obscure  passage 
in  Shakespeare  is  thus  interpreted  by  Bacon,  and  is  not 
easily  explained  except  by  reference  to  his  "  modos  adhunc 
nunquam  tentatos."  Moreover,  what  the  poet  means  by 
common  sense  must  be  ascertained  by  reference  to  Bacon's 
philosophical  expression  of  the  same  idea.  It  is  the 
immediate  apprehension  of  the  senses. 


184         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  bene  ausus  contemcre  finds  expression  in  another  play. 
Lucio  remonstrates  with  Isabella  for  underrating  her  own 
power. 

Assay  the  power  you  have. 
Isab. — My  power  ?    Alas  I  doubt — 

Lucio. — Our  doubts  are  traitors, 

And  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win 
By  fearing  to  attempt. 

{Mcas.for  Meas.  I.  iv.  76). 

And  in  Venus  and  Adonis,  the  poet  himself,  moralizing  on 
the  situation,  says  (567) : — 

Things  out  of  hope  are  compass'd  oft  with  venturing. 

The  identity  of  the  philosophical  sentiments  of  the  poet 
with  those  of  the  philosopher  cannot  be  mistaken. 

8.— Physiognomy. 

In  Bacon's  survey  of  the  sciences,  he  is  careful  to  note 
any  branch  of  science  which  ought  to  be  or  might  be 
pursued,  but  which  has  been  neglected.  Among  these 
"deficients,"  he  names  Physiognomy,  which,  he  says, 
"discovers  the  dispositions  of  the  mind  by  the  lineaments 
of  the  body."  These  "lineaments  of  the  body  disclose 
the  dispositions  and  inclinations  of  the  mind  in  general ; 
but  the  motions  and  gestures  of  the  countenance  .... 
disclose  also  the  present  humour  of  the  mind  and  will." 
The  fact  that  this  deficiency  exists  is  noticed  also,  in 
apparently  a  very  casual  way,  in  Macbeth,  when  Duncan 
says  of  the  Thane  of  Cawdor — 

There's  no  art  to  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face. 

(Macb.  I.  iv.  11). 

I  do  not  think  this  philosophical  fact  is  blurted  out  by 
accident ;  the  poet  knew  exactly  what  his  words  implied. 
He  was  even  more  a  philosopher  than  a  poet,  and  had 
evidently  taken  exceptional  interest  in  Physiognomy.  In 
other  places  he  refers  to  this  art : — 


THE    FACE    AND    THE    HEART.  185 

O,  what  may  man  within  him  hide, 
Though  angel  on  the  outward  side. 

{Meas.for  Meas.  III.  ii.  285). 

Queen  Catherine  had  some  notions  of  physiognomy  in 
her  mind  when  she  told  the  cardinals  : 

Ye  have  angels'  faces,  but  heaven  knows  your  hearts. 

{Hen.  VIII.  III.  i.  145). 

Shakespeare,  like  Bacon,  believed  that  the  motions  and 
gestures  of  the  face  disclose  the  present  humour  and  state 
of  the  mind  and  will,  whether  we  can  interpret  these 
motions  or  not.     For  he  says, 

All  men's  faces  are  true,  whatsoe'er  their  hands  are. 

{Ant.  CI  CO.  II.  vi.  102). 

And  Macbeth  knows  that  crime  writes  itself  on  the 
features,  and  that  the  countenance  of  guilt  must  put  on 
falsity. 

False  face  must  hide  what  this  false  heart  doth  know. 

{Macb.  I.  vii.  82). 

Still  more  clearly  in  Lucrece  is  the  art  alluded  to. 
Lucrece  is  looking  at  a  picture,  a  piece  of  skilful  painting, 
made  for  Priam's  Troy  and  some  of  the  "thousand  lament- 
able objects  there,"  to  which. 

In  scorn  of  Nature  Art  gave  lifeless  life, 
are  vividly  described  :   among  the  rest, — 

In  Ajax  and  Ulysses,  O,  what  art 

Of  phvsiognomy  might  one  behold  ! 

The  face  of  either  ciphered  either's  heart ; 

Their  face  their  manners  most  expressly  told  : 

In  Ajax'  eyes  blunt  rage  and  rigour  roird  ; 
But  the  mild  glance  that  sly  Ulysses  lent, 
Show'd  deep  regard  and  smiling  government. 

(See  Lucrece  1366-1400). 

g. — Sleep. 

Bacon's  ideas  about  sleep  are  very  characteristic.  He 
often  gives  expression  to  two  of  them  :   ist.   Sleep   is  a 


l86  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

nourisher,  it  feeds  the  body  ;  2nd,   Afternoon  sleep  is  very 
salutary,  especially  for  elderly  and  infirm  persons. 

As  to  the  nourishing  property  of  sleep,  he  says:  "As 
exercise  demands  more  nourishment,  so  likewise  sleep  to  a 
certain  extent  supplies  it."  ("Hist.  Life  and  Death"). 
Again,  "Sleep  nourisheth,  or  at  least  preserveth  bodies  a 
long  time  without  other  nourishment.  Beasts  that  sleep  in 
winter,  as  is  noted  in  wild  bears,  during  their  sleep  wax 
very  fat,  though  they  eat  nothing."  {Syl.  Syl.  746). 
In  another  of  his  natural  history  notes  (57)  he  says  that 
"  sleep  doth  nourish  much." 

This  property  of  sleep  is  used  metaphorically  in  one  of 
the  Antitheta  concerning  loquacity.  "Silence,  like  a 
sleep,  nourishes  wisdom  (or  prudence)."  "  Silentium, 
veluti  somnus  quidam,  alit  prudentiam."  {De  Aug.  VI. 
iii.,  Ant.  31). 

As  to  the  second  property  of  sleep, — its  benefit  in  the 
afternoon  to  weak  or  elderly  persons, — he  writes: — "In 
aged  men  and  weak  bodies,  and  such  as  abound  not  in 
choler,  a  short  sleep  after  dinner  doth  help  to  nourish.''' 
The  two  points,  it  may  be  observed,  are  here  combined. 
And  again,  in  his  Com.  Sol.,  as  to  sleep,  "  Immediately 
after  dinner,  or  at  four  of  the  clock,  I  could  never  yet  find 
resolution  and  strength  enough  in  myself  to  inhibit  it." 
("Life"  IV.  79). 

These  maxims  both  interpret  and  augment  the  meaning 
of  several  passages  in  Shakespeare.  For  instance,  when 
he  calls  sleep  "Nature's  soft  nurse  "  (2  Hen.  IV.  III.  i.  6), 
he  means  not  only  a  watcher  or  a  servant,  but  a  nursing 
mother,  with  well-stored  breasts  :  and  we  can  by  this  light 
(and  by  this  only)  understand  why  Macbeth  calls  sleep. 

Great  Nature's  second  course,  chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast. 

(Macb.  II.  ii.  38). 

These  words  are  intended  to  express,  not  merely  poetic 
fancies,  but  scientific  facts. 

As  to  the  second  point,  we  remember  how  the  Ghost  in 


NATURE    GOVERNS    ART.  187 

Hamlet  narrates  to  young  Hamlet  the  manner  of  his  death: 
he  had  been  poisoned  when, — 

Sleeping  within  n\\  orchard, 
My  custom  always  of  the  afternoon. 

(Ham.  I.  V.  59). 

And  in  the  Tempest,  Cahban,  plotting  to  murder  Prospero, 
knows  that  his  best  opportunity  will  be  in  the  afternoon, 
when  he  is  taking  his  usual  nap  : — 

'Tis  a  custom  with  him  i'  the  afternoon  to  sleep. 

(Temp.  III.  ii.  94) 

10. — Nature  and  Art. 

We  in  this  nineteenth  century  are  accustomed  to  think 
of  the  works  or  effects  of  Art  as  being  merely  the  result  of 
bringing  human  faculties  to  work  in  the  moulding  or  appli- 
cation of  the  matter  and  force  supplied  by  Nature.  But 
Bacon  tells  us  that  up  to  his  time,  Art  and  Nature  had 
been  contrasted  as  different  from  one  another :  and  when 
he  set  down  the  "History  of  the  Arts"  as  a  species  of 
Natural  History,  he  considered  that  he  was  running 
counter  to  prevalent  opinion.  "  I  am  the  rather  induced  to 
set  down  the  history  of  arts  as  a  species  of  natural  history, 
because  it  is  the  fashion  to  talk  as  if  art  were  something 
different  from  nature,  so  that  things  artificial  should  be 
separated  from  things  natural,  as  differing  totally  in  kind. 
.  .  Whereas  men  ought  on  the  contrary  to  have  a 
settled  conviction,  that  things  artificial  differ  from  things 
natural,  not  in  form  or  essence,  but  only  in  the  efficient  ; 
that  man  has  in  truth  no  power  over  nature  except  that  of 
motion  .  .  .  the  rest  is  done  by  nature  working  within." 
("Intell.  Globe."  Works  V.  506).  This  theory,  which 
Bacon  claims  as  original,  is  most  exactly  expressed  by 
Shakespeare  : — 

Nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean 
But  Nature  makes  that  mean  ;  so  over  that  art 
Which  you  say  adds  to  Nature,  is  an  art 
That  nature  makes ;  .  .  .  this  is  an  art 


l88  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Which  does  niend  nature,  change  it  rather,  hut 

The  art  itself  is  nature.  (IT.  Talc.  IV.  iv.  89). 

This  is  the  only  passage  in  Shakespeare  where  this  axiom 
is  formally  expressed,  and  it  is  all  the  more  significant 
because  it  is  placed  in  immediate  relation  with  the 
remarkable  list  of  flowers  which  is  so  curiously  identical 
with  the  same  list,  similarly  grouped,  and  similarly 
classified  in  Bacon's  Essay  of  "Gardens,"  published  in 
1625.  Mr.  Spedding  was  the  first  to  draw  attention  to  this 
striking  coincidence.  It  has  been  repeatedly  referred  to 
since  the  publication  of  his  Edition  of  Bacon's  works. 
His  language  is  worth  quoting:  "The  scene  in  the 
Winter's  Tale  where  Perdita  presents  the  guests  with 
flowers  suited  to  their  ages,  has  some  expressions,  which, 
if  this  Essay  had  been  contained  in  the  earlier  edition, 
would,  have  made  me  suspect  that  Shakespeare  had  been 
reading  it.  As  I  am  not  aware  that  the  resemblance  has 
been  observed,  I  will  quote  the  passages  to  which  I  allude 
in  connection  with  those  which  remind  me  of  them." 
Spedding  has  no  explanation  to  offer ;  certainly  some  is 
required.  This  Baconian  garland  is  so  well  known  that  I 
need  not  reproduce  it. 

II. — Nature  and  Fortune. 

Bacon  frequently  draws  a  contrast  between  the  gifts  of 
nature  and  those  of  fortune  :  especially  when  he  is  con- 
templating the  characters  and  careers  of  royal  personages. 
The  whole  of  the  dedication  of  the  "  Advancement  of 
Learning  "  to  King  James  is  taken  up  with  a  ceremonial 
and  laudatory  description  of  the  "parts  of  virtue  and 
fortune "  belonging  to  the  royal  personage.  He  follows 
this  into  most  exquisite  detail.  "And  as  in  your  Civil 
Estate  there  appeareth  to  be  an  emulation  and  contention 
of  your  Majesty's  virtue  with  your  fortune,  a  virtuous 
disposition  with  a  fortunate  regiment ;  a  virtuous  expecta- 
tion   (when   time  was)   of    your  greater   fortune,    with  a 


NATURE    AND    FORTUNE    HAND    IN    HAND.  189 

prosperous  possession  thereof  in  due  time ;  a  virtuous 
observation  of  the  laws  of  marriage,  with  most  blessed  and 
happy  fruit  of  marriage ;  a  virtuous  and  most  Christian 
desire  of  peace,  with  a  fortunate  inclination  in  your  neigh- 
bour princes  thereunto  ;  so  likewise  in  these  intellectual 
matters,  there  seemeth  to  be  no  less  contention  between 
the  excellency  of  your  Majesty's  gifts  of  Nature  and  the 
universality  and  perfection  of  your  learning." — (Works, 
III.  262). 

The  same  contrast  is  the  leading  motive  of  the  Eulog}- 
on  Queen  Elizabeth.  The  opening  sentence  gives  the 
key-note  of  the  whole  piece.  "Elizabeth  both  in  her 
nature  and  fortune,  was  a  wonderful  person  among  women 
[Nature],  a  memorable  person  among  princes  "  [Fortune], 
(Works,  VI.  305).  And  at  the  close  he  sums  up  with 
the  characteristic  words,  "  So  little  was  she  disposed  to 
borrow  anything  of  her  fortune  to  the  credit  of  her  virtue." 
(p.  318).  The  same  contrast  is  implied  in  the  three 
Essays,  38,  39,  and  40,  of  "  Nature  in  Man,"  of  "  Custom 
and  Education,"  and  of  "  Fortune." 

Shakespeare  is  equally  partial  to  the  same  contrast, 
especially  when  he  too  is  contemplating  the  qualities  and 
careers  of  high  persons.  Constance,  describing  the  qualities 
and  fortunes  of  her  son  Prince  Arthur,  says  : — 

But  thou  art  fair,  and  at  thy  birth,  dear  boy 
Nature  and  Fortune  join'd  to  make  thee  great. 
Of  Nature's  gifts  thou  may'st  with  lilies  boast, 
And  with  the  half-blown  rose.     But  Fortune,  O 
She  is  corrupted,  clianged  and  won  from  thee. 

{John  III.  i.  51). 

Brutus,  has  for  Caesar,  whom  he  has  just  slain, — 

Tears  for  his  love;  joy  for  his  fortune  ;  honour  for  his  valour  ;  and 
death  for  his  ambition. — Jul.  Civs.  III.  ii.  29. 

Enobarbus  philosophises  with  much  depth  of  wisdom 
on  the  rash  course  of  Antony  which  led  to  his  destruction  : 

I  see  men's  judgments  are 
A  parcel  of  tlieir  fortunes;  and  things  outward 


igo  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

I  Do  draw  the  inward  quality  after  them. 

{Ant.  Cli-o.  III.  xiii.  31). 

Dogberry  has  a  glimmering,  topsy-turvy  perception  of 
the  same  contrast : 

To  be  a  well  favoured  man  is  the  gift  of  fortune,  but  to  read  and 

write  comes  bv  nature. 

(Much  Ado  III.  in.  is). 

Rosahnd  is  of  the  same  opinion,  without  the  confusion  : 

Fortune  reigns  in  the  gifts  of  the  world,  not  in  the  lineaments  of 
nature.  {--i^  yon  I^ikc  I.  ii.  44)  : 

and  there  is  much  more  to  the  same  effect  in  the  context. 

Now,  it  is  not  a  httle  significant  that  the  mental 
attitude  here  indicated  is  much  more  characteristic  of 
Roman  and  Latin  philosophy  than  of  Christian  philosophy. 
It  is  adopted  by  the  Elizabethan  philosopher  and  poet 
because  his  mind  was  saturated  with  such  philosophy  as 
Cicero  and  other  Latin  writers  habitually  enforce.  The 
following  is  a  specimen  of  this  kind  of  sentiment : — 

Sed  tamen  alterius  partis  periculum,  Sertorianae  atque 
Hispaniensis,  quas  multo  plus  fiirmamenti  ac  roboris 
habebat,  Cn  Pompeii  divino  consilio  ac  smgulari  virtute 
depulsum  est ;  in  altera  parte  ita  res  a  L.  Lucullo  summo 
viro  est  administrata,  ut  initia  ilia  rerum  gestarum  magna 
atque  pras  clara  non  felicitati  ejus,  sed  virtuti,  haec  autem 
extrema,  quae  nuper  acciderunt  non  culpa,  sed  fortuncc 
,i!rt6;^6'n^rt  esse  videantur. —  'Cic  De  Imperio  Cn  Pompeii 
Oratio,  4." 

Which  may  be  translated  : 

But  yet  the  danger  in  one  quarter  from  Sertorius  and  the 
Spaniards,  which  affair  was  possessed  of  more  endurance 
and  vitality,  was  warded  off  by  the  more  than  human 
wisdom  and  singular  valour  of  Cneius  Pompey  ;  while  in 
the  other  quarter,  affairs  were  so  handled  by  that  most 
capable  man  L.  Lucullus,  that  the  first  events  in  the 
campaign,  great  and  brilliant  though  the}^  were,  were  due 
not  to  his  good  fortune  but  to  his  valour,  whilst  those  events 


THE  CENTRE  OF  MOVEMENT.  I9I 

which  have  lately  befallen,  appear  to  be  due  not  to  an}- 
fault  on  his  part  but  to  the  caprice  of  fortune. 

12. — Primum  Mobile. 

In  the  Promiis,  No.  1452,  Bacon  makes  a  note  of  the 
Primum  mobile  as  suitable  for  literary  use:  ^^  Primum 
mobile  turns  about  all  the  rest  of  the  orbs."  The  Primum 
mobile  is  that  movement  which  every  celestial  body  derives 
from  the  central  body  about  which  its  orbit  is  fixed. 
Every  such  body  has  also  its  own  independent  motion 
referable  only  to  causes  affecting  itself.  The  King  is  the 
source  of  Primum  mobile  to  all  his  subjects:  "Those  that 
he  useth  as  his  substitutes  move  wholly  in  his  motion." 
("Life"  IV.  285).  When  this  centre  no  longer  attracts, 
disloyalty  results.  "  Though  my  Lady  should  have  put  on 
a  mind  to  continue  her  loyalty,  as  Nature  and  duty  did 
bind  her,  yet  when  she  was  in  another  sphere,  she  must 
have  moved  in  the  motion  of  that  orb,  and  not  of  the 
planet  itself,"  referring,  I  believe,  to  Lady  Arabella  Stuart. 
("Life"  IV.  298). 

This  is  the  advice  which  Bacon  gives  to  the  Judges  : — 
"You  that  are  Judges  of  circuits,  are  as  it  were  the 
planets  of  the  kingdom.  ...  Do  therefore  as  they 
(the  planets)  do  ;  move  always  and  be  carried  with  the 
motion  of  your  first  mover,  which  is  your  sovereign.  A 
popular  Judge  is  a  deformed  thing  ;  and  plaudites  are  fitter 
for  players  than  magistrates."  ("  Life"  VI.  211).  On  this 
principle,  Bacon  was  ready,  if  needs  be,  to  acquiesce  in 
that  which  he  disapproved.  He  advises  Buckingham  to  act 
on  this  principle.  "My  Lord,  you  owe  in  this  matter  two 
debts  to  the  King.  The  one  "  [if  you  disapprove  of  the 
Spanish  match,  to  say  so,  and  shew  your  reason];  "the 
other,  that  if  the  King  in  his  high  judgment,  or  the  Prince 
in  his  settled  affection,  be  resolved  to  have  it  go  on,  that 
you  move  in  their  orb  so  far  as  they  shall  lay  it  upon  you." 
{lb.  VII.  449).  This  principle  is  naturally  used  in  the 
Essay  of  "Seditions,"  which  may  arise  when  reverence  of 


ig2         SHAKESPEARE     STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

government  is  lost  and  great  persons  "move  violently  in 
their  own  particular  motion."  It  is  used  to  explain  the 
pernicious  influence  of  superstition:  "Atheism  leaves  a 
man  to  sense,  to  philosophy,  to  natural  piety,  to  laws,  to 
reputation  ....  but  superstition  dismounts  all  these, 
and  erecteth  an  absolute  monarchy  in  the  minds  of  men 
....  a  new  priinuin  mobile  that  ravisheth  all  the  spheres 
of  government."  This  accounts  for  the  injury  done  to  the 
State  by  "  Wisdom  for  a  man's  self."  "  It  is  a  poor  centre 
of  a  man's  actions,  himself.  It  is  right  Earth  [terrestial, 
not  celestial].  For  that  only  stands  fast  upon  its  own 
centre :  whereas  all  things  that  have  affinity  with  the 
heavens  move  upon  the  centre  of  another,  which  they 
benefit."  A  similar  application  is  made  in  the  Essay  of 
"Faction." 

This  idea  is  expressed  with  the  same  emphasis  in  Shake- 
speare. Luciana,  remonstrating  with  the  Syracusan  fac 
simile  of  her  sister's  husband  says  : — 

We  in  your  motion  turn,  and  you  may  move  us. 

{Com.  Er.  III.  ii.  24). 

Antony,  justifying  his  contempt  for  Lepidus,  the  "slight 
unmeritable  man,"  whom  Octavius  claims  to  be  "a.  tried 
and  valiant  soldier  "  : — 

So  is  my  horse,  Octavius.     .     .     . 

It  is  a  creature  that  I  teach  to  fight, 

To  wind,  to  stop,  to  run  directly  on, 

His  corporal  motion  govern'd  by  my  spirit. 

{Jul.  Civs.  IV.  i.  29). 

Prince  Henry  will  not  brook  rivalry  or  comparison  with 
Hotspur, — 

I  am  tlie  Prince  of  Wales,  and  think  not,  Percy, 
To  share  with  me  in  glory  any  more. 
Two  stars  keep  not  their  motion  in  one  sphere. 
Nor  can  one  England  brook  a  double  reign 
Of  Harry  Percy  and  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  V.  iv.  63). 


PLANETARY  MOVEMENT.  193 

The   same   idea   is   put    into   the   mouth   of  Marlowe's 
Edward  II.,  when  abdicating  : — 

Here,  take  my  crown  ;  the  life  of  Edward  too. 
Two  Kings  in  England  cannot  reign  at  once. 

{Edward  11.  V.  i.  57). 

The   usurping   king    in    Hamlet,    describes    his    queen, 
Hamlet's  mother  : — 

The  queen,  his  mother, 

Lives  almost  by  his  looks  ;  and  for  myself — 

My  virtue  or  my  plague,  be  it  either  which, — 

She's  so  conjunctive  to  my  life  and  soul, 

That,  as  the  star  moves  not  but  in  his  sphere, 

I  could  not  but  by  her. 

[Haul.  IV.  vii.  11). 

This  was  the  kind   of  attraction   by  which   Helena   is 
drawn  to  Bertram  : — 

I  am  undone  :  there  is  no  living,  none, 
If  Bertram  be  away.     Twere  all  one 
That  I  should  love  a  bright  particular  star 
And  think  to  wed  it,  he  is  so  above  me  : 
In  his  bright  radiance  and  collateral  light 
Must  I  be  comforted,  not  in  his  sphere. 

{All's  Well  I.  i.  96). 

Shakespeare's  opinion  about  sedition  is  much  the  same 
as  Bacon's.     Kmg  Henry  IV.  asks  the  rebels,— 

Will  you  again  unknit 
This  churlish  knot  of  all-abhorred  war  ? 
And  move  in  that  obedient  orb  again 
Where  you  did  give  a  fair  and  natural  light  ? 

(I  Hen.  IV.  V.  i.  15.) 

Falconbridge,   addressing  certain   nobles   who   had    re- 
volted, but  returned  to  allegiance,  says, — 

Now,  now,  ye  stars  that  move  in  your  right  spheres, 

Where  be  your  powers  ? 

{John  V.  vii.  74). 

0 


194      shakespeare  studies  in  baconian  light. 

13. — Philosophia  Prima. 

The  laws  of  Nature,  which  are  also  the  laws  of  life  and 
thought,  which  are  exemplified  in  the  Primiim  Mobile 
belong  properly  to  Bacon's  Philosophia  prima,  some 
specimens  of  which  may  be  now  given. 

Bacon  was  greatly  interested  in  the  Maxims  of  Philo- 
sophia prima — universal  laws,  applicable  to  all  forms  and 
spheres  of  being — true  for  mathematics,  for  physics,  for 
ethics,  for  policy.  In  this  respect  Bacon's  mind  evidently 
had  an  element  of  mysticism  in  its  composition.  For  he 
will  not  allow  these  "correspondences  between  the  archi- 
tectures and  fabrics  of  things  natural  and  things  civil "  to 
be  only  similitudes,  or  fancies,  "but  plainly  the  same  foot- 
steps of  nature  treading  or  printing  upon  different  subjects," 
which  is  a  close  approximation  to  Swedenborg's  doctrine 
of  correspondences.  One  of  these  maxims  is,  "In  nature 
things  move  violently  to  their  place,  and  calmly  in  their 
place.  So  virtue  in  ambition  is  violent,  in  authority, 
settled  and  calm."  (See  Essay  of  "Great  Place."  Anti- 
theta  on  "Office.")  This  law  of  the  highest  Philosophy  is 
certainly  referred  to  in  the  words, — 

All  things  that  are 
i_  Are  with  more  spirit  chased  than  enjoyed. 

{Mcr.  Yen.  II.  vi.  12). 

The  whole  passage  is  so  strikingly  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  and  idea  of  Bacon's  Philosophia  prima,  that  it  may  be 
added  to  the  specimens  which  he  gives  in  the  "  Advance- 
ment"  and  De  Aug.  III.  ii.  ;  Works  I.  540,  III.  346,  IV. 
337.  It  should  also  be  noted  that  Bacon  gives  several  of 
these  specimens  because  the  scientific  discussion  of  this 
philosophy  is  entirely  neglected — there  is  a  "mere  and 
deep  silence "  upon  it — it  is  as  a  branch  of  science, 
non-existant.  This  gives  a  deeper  significance  to  the  illus- 
trations of  the  same  Philosophy  in  Shakespeare — specimens 
evidently  given  with  a  perfect  consciousness  of  their  philo- 
sophical import,  being  such  "profitable  observations  and 


MYSTIC    CORRESPONDENCIES.  IQS 

axioms  as  fall  not  within  the  compass  of  any  of  the  special 
parts  of  philosophy  or  science,  but  are  more  common,  and 
of  a  higher  stage."     The  entire  passage  is  as  follows  : — 

Gratia  no. — It  is  marvel  he  outdwells  his  hour, 

For  lovers  ever  run  before  the  clock, 

Salarino. — O,  ten  times  faster  Venus'  pigeons  fly 

To  seal  love's  bonds,  new-made,  than  they  are  wont 
To  keep  obliged  faith  unforfeited  ! 

Graiiano. — That  ever  holds.     Who  riseth  from  a  feast 
With  tliat  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down  ? 
WHiere  is  the  horse  that  doth  untread  again 
His  tedious  measures  with  the  unbated  fire 
That  he  did  pace  them  first  ?     All  things  that  are 
Are  with  more  spirit  chased  than  enjoyed. 
How  like  a  younker  or  a  prodigal 
The  scarfed  bark  puts  from  her  native  bay, 
Hugg'd  and  embraced  by  the  strumpet  wind. 
How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return 
With  over-weather'd  ribbs  and  ragged  sails. 
Lean,  rent,  and  beggar'd  by  the  strumpet  wind. 

If  anyone  hesitates  as  to  the  possibility  of  admitting 
such  fancies  as  these  into  grave  philosophical  discussion, 
let  him  compare  them  with  the  dozen  illustrations  of 
"Persian  Magic  "  given  in  De  Aug.  III.  ii.  Every  one  of 
these  illustrations  is  quite  as  remote  from  our  conceptions 
as  to  the  sort  of  wares  a  philosopher  should  deal  in  as  the 
specimens  given  by  Salarino  and  Gratiano.  I  cannot  my- 
self doubt  that  the  same  intention  of  discussing  grave 
moral  and  political  questions  by  the  methods  of  the 
Philosophia  prima  is  to  be  recognised  in  the  marvellous 
discourses  of  Agamemnon,  Nestor  and  Ulysses  in  Tro. 
Cres.  I.  iii.  Various  types  of  "  checks  and  disasters  "  shew 
the  "correspondences  between  the  architectures  and 
fabrics  of  things  natural  and  things  civil," — the  reproof  of 
chance  which  shews  the  true  proof  of  men  is  seen  in  ships 
and  trees  and  cattle  as  much  as  in  men, — the  universal 
principle  that  neglect  of  "degree,  priority,  place,  insisture, 
course,  proportion,  season,  form,  office  and  custom,  in  all 


Tg6  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

line  of  order"  brings  disaster  and  ruin,  is  to  be  seen  in 
planets,  storms,  seas,  rivers,  the  fixity  and  calm  of  Nature, 
as  well  as  in  armies,  states,  families,  factions,  schools, 
brotherhoods,  commerce  :  and  all  of  these  are  so  many 
pages  and  sections  of  the  Philosophia  prima,  so  many 
contributions  to  the  supply  of  its  deficiencies.  The 
majestic  speeches  in  this  marvellous  play  are  full  of  this 
philosophy. 

Sometimes  the  analogy  which  is  raised  to  the  dignity  of 
Natural  law,  is  not  entirely  in  agreement  with  facts.  A 
most  remarkable  illustration  is  the  following: — 

On  the  accession  of  Henry  V.  to  the  throne,  there  is  a 
scene  in  which  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the 
Bishop  of  Ely  are  speaking  of  the  "  blessed  change  "  from 
wild  prince  Hal,  to  the  wise,  sagacious,  and  truly  noble 
monarch.  The  prince  who  had  been  addicted  to  riotous 
company  is  now  a  pattern  to  the  wisest.  How  has  the 
change  come  about  ?     The  Bishop  replies  : — 

The  strawberry  grows  underneath  the  nettle, 
And  wholesome  berries  thrive  and  ripen  best 
■  Neighbour  d  by  fruit  of  baser  qualit}'. 
And  so  the  prince  obscured  his  contemplation 
Under  the  veil  of  wildness ;  which  no  doubt 
Grew  like  the  summer  grass,  fastest  by  night, 
Unseen  vet  crescive  in  his  faculty. 

(Hen.  r.  I.  i.  60). 

The  horticulture  of  this  passage  is  very  doubtful ;  yet  it  is 
exactly  expounded  in  the  Sylva  Sylvanun,  where  we  find 
a  chapter  on  experiments  in  "Consort"  touching  the 
sympathy  and  antipathy  of  things,  and  this  is  one  of  the 
illustrations.  "Wheresoever  one  plant  draweth  such  a 
particular  juice  out  of  the  earth  as  it  qualifieth  the  earth, 
so  as  that  juice  which  remaineth  is  fit  for  the  other  plant, 
there  the  neighbourhood  [mark  the  word]  doeth  good, 
because  the  nourishments  are  contrary  or  several  :  but 
where  two  plants  draw  much  the  same  juice  then  the 
neighbourhood  hurteth."     The  idea  is  that  the  sweet  fruit 


FANTASTIC   HORTICULTURE.  197 

monopolizes  the  sweet  producing  qualities  of  the  soil,  and 
flourishes  better  if  the  nearest  plants  do  not  produce 
sweetness,  but  something  else, — the  contrasted  quality  of 
the  plants  is  advantageous  to  each.  See  Syl.  Syl.  480 — 491. 
The  same  idea  is  thus  expressed  in  the  Novum  Organon  : 
*'  If  it  be  said  that  there  is  consent  [consensus]  and  friend- 
ship between  corn  and  the  corn-cockle  or  wild  poppy, 
because  these  herbs  hardly  come  up  except  in  ploughed 
fields,  it  should  rather  be  said  that  there  is  enmity  between 
them,  because  the  poppy  and  corn-cockle  are  emitted  and 
generated  from  a  juice  of  the  earth  which  the  corn  has 
left  and  rejected,  so  that  sowing  the  ground  with  corn 
prepares  it  for  their  growth."     {Nov.  Org.  II.  50). 

Another  physiological  doctrine  was  that  life  may  be 
prolonged  by  medicine :  some  drugs  being  capable  of 
warding  off  dissolution,  even  though  they  do  not  cure 
disease,  or  give  any  other  benefit.  "The  third  part  of 
medicine  which  I  have  set  down  is  that  which  relates  to 
the  Prolongation  of  life,  which  is  new  and  deficient,  and 
the  most  noble  of  all,"  and  he  proceeds  to  supply 
"admonitions,  directions  and  precepts."  {Dc  Aug. 
IV.  ii).  This  gives  a  much  needed  key  to  the  extent  of 
meaning  in  the  following  lines, — 

B}'  medicine  life  may  be  prolong'd,  yet  Death 

Will  seize  the  doctor  too. 

{Cyinb.  V.  v.  29). 

The  significance  of  this  is  all  the  greater,  when  we  observe 
that  Bacon  refers  to  this  department  of  medical  art  as  one 
that  is  neglected,  deficient,  and  almost  forgotten. 

Conclusion, — Philosophical  Maxims. 

The  correspondences  both  in  thought  and  expression 
given  in  this  chapter  are  of  a  very  significant  character. 
They  are  not  mere  chance  repetitions  of  current  ideas,  the 
common  property  of  all  literary  persons,  winged  creatures 
flying  in  the  air  for  any  one  to  catch  and  cage.    It  is  easy  to 


ig8         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN   LIGHT. 

toss  them  aside  with  these  explanations;  but  those  who  use 
them  are  bound  to  enter  into  detail  and  point  out  some  at 
least  of  the  common  sources  whence  they  are  derived.  It  is 
not  for  us  to  prove  the  negative  contention  that  they  were 
not  current  commonplaces  at  the  time  they  were  produced. 
If  they  were  it  cannot  be  difficult  for  those  who  take  the 
affirmative  position  to  prove  that.  It  should,  however,  be 
noticed  that  even  if  some  casual  approximation  to  the  same 
ideas  and  expressions  may  be  found  in  other  writers,  yet  in 
their  Shakespearean  setting  they  are  so  characteristically 
Baconian  that  no  well-informed  person  hesitates  to  attri- 
bute them  to  him,  as  specially  characteristic  of  his  mind 
and  thought.  We  may  claim  for  Bacon  certain  patent 
rights  in  his  mines  and  forges, — in  the  sunshine  which 
visits  the  vilest  places, — in  his  special  mode  of  affirming 
the  fertilizing  uses  of  money, — in  his  use  o{ possnnt  quia  posse 
videntur, — in  the  nourishment  which  he  finds  in  his  afternoon 
sleep, — in  his  resolute  identification  of  Art  and  Nature, — 
and  in  the  strange  poetic  fancies  of  his  Philosophia  Prima : 
and  so  on  through  a  countless  number  of  such  instances  as 
are  supplied  by  the  Proinus,  and  in  the  echoes  and 
correspondencies  which  are  pointed  out  in  the  next  two 
chapters.  Some  of  these  characteristically  Baconian 
utterances  have  become  current  since  his  day.  No  one 
now  refers  the  title  of  Charles  Dickens'  "Household 
Words "  to  Shakespeare.  When  we  use  Shakespeare's 
immortal  words  about  bringing  taper-light  to  garnish  sun- 
light, we  do  not  trace  it  to  Bacon's  mem.orandum  To  help 
the  Sun  with  lanterns.  We  are  the  careless  inheritors  of  a 
great  literary  estate,  and  we  forget  our  illustrious  ancestor 
who  won  it  for  us  :  the  trees  he  planted  seem  to  our 
unreflective  eyes  to  be  self-sown.  As  soon  as  all  the  items 
of  this  vast  literary  property  are  labelled  with  the  names 
of  their  original  inventors  the  names  of  Bacon  and 
Shakespeare  are  so  intrinsically  and  organically  united  that 
it  is  impossible  to  separate  them,  and  the  identity  of  the 
two  is  almost  demonstrated. 


rgg 


CHAPTER     XI. 

THE    PROMUS. 

In  this  and  the  following  chapter,  I  wish  to  bring  together 
a  number  of  striking  correspondences  between  the  lan- 
guage or  the  thought  of  Bacon  and  that  of  Shakespeare. 
And  first  of  all  we  must  open  the  Projuus  and  form  a 
general  conception  of  its  purpose,  and  its  significance  as  an 
argument  for  the  Baconian  authorship  of  Shakespeare. 

The  Proinus  is  a  collection  of  Notes  and  Hints  for 
literary  use  :  seeds  of  thought  ;  studies  in  composition  ;  it 
is  the  common  place  book  of  a  scholar  who  is  also  an 
author.  In  it  we  find  a  large  collection  of  proverbs  in 
English,  French,  Spanish  and  Italian  :  texts  from  the 
Bible ;  quotations  froni  Erasmus,  Virgil,  Ovid,  Horace, 
Seneca.  Also  a  number  of  what  are  termed  "turns  of 
expression,"  little  phrases  for  use  at  the  beginning  oi  a 
sentence  ;  or  for  sustaining  a  dialogue  ;  typical  specimens 
of  repartee,  or  of  rhyming  conversation  ;  odds  and  ends  of 
all  sorts. 

Bacon  undoubtedly  used  many  of  these  hints  for  thought 
and  composition  in  his  acknowledged  works.  It  is  quite 
impossible  to  say  how  many.  The  connection  between  the 
crude  hint  and  the  finished  result  may  be  invisible ;  the 
"seeds  and  weak  beginnings"  may  have  been  so  altered  as 
they  passed  through  the  growing  ground  of  Bacon's  mind 
that  the  developed  organism  may  be  unrecognizable. 
Looking  with  some  detail  into  this  question,  I  have  con- 
cluded that  the  following  Promus  notes  may  be  more  or 
less  clearly  connected  with  Bacon's  prose  writings  : — 

Nos.  3—6  ;    8—10  ;    13  ;   22,  g  ;    32  ;  41,  3,  4  ;    5i»  2,  4  ; 


200  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

60—63;  70,  2,  4;  81;  83—86,  g;  92,  3,  s,7\  (^'•^-  35  in 
what  Bacon  would  call  the  first  Century. 

Nos.  104—6;  112,  6,  7;  122,  8;  132;  145,  8;  151,  9; 
162,6;  178;  184,7;  191;  (  =  20). 

Nos.  222,  5>  6,  7  ;  230,  5,  7  ;  241  ;  250,  9  ;  266,  7,  9  ; 
292  (=18). 

Nos.  302,  3,  8 ;  323,  9 ;  332,  3,  9  ;  341,  4,  7  ;  35o>  2,  3,  5, 
7  ;  362,  4,  9  ;  370,  5  ;  380,  i,  6  ;  392  ;  (  =  32). 

Nos.  400,  2,  5  ;  412  5,  9  ;  433  :  448  ;  451,  4  ;  4^1,  5»  8  ; 
475.  9;  4^7  ;  (  =  16). 

Nos.  506  ;  512,  6  ;  520,  8  ;  530,  2  ;  541,  5,  6,  9  ;  553  ; 
561,  3;  570,  I,  6,  7;  (  =  18). 

Nos.  601  ;  610,  4,  9  ;  637  ;  641  ;  658  ;  664,  9  ;  676  ;  688  ; 
690,  8;  (  =  13). 

Nos.  705,  6,  8  ;  710,  9 ;  724,  7  ;  730,  2,  9  ;  741,  2,  7a;  751  ; 
760,  2,  6  ;  780  ;  794,  5,  6,  7a  ;  (  =  22). 

Nos.  802,  6  ;  817,  g;  832,  6,  8;  850,  i,  6  ;  872,  6,  7  ;  880  ; 

891,  3,  9;  (  =  17)- 

Nos.  908  ;  910  ;  925  ;  944,  5  ;  965  ;  979  ;  989  ;  992  ; 

(=9)- 

Nos.  looi,  2  ;  1026  ;  1041  ;  1055  ;  1060,  2,  6  ;  1080  i,  2; 

(=11). 

Nos.  1106,  7  ;  1113,  5,  7  ;  1121  ;  1133,  7  ;  1142,  9  ;  1150, 

I,  2,  4,  5  ;  1167a ;  1169  ;  1171,  2,  5  ;  1180  ;  (=21). 

Nos.  1234— 1362 ;  1365,  7,  9 ;  1395.  6,  7;  (=134)- 

Nos.  1400,  3  ;  1432  ;   1440 — 1460  ;   1472,  4  ;  (  =  26). 
Nos.  1506  ;   1532  ;  1629  i  (=23). 
Total  395. 

In  this  enumeration  I  have  included  the  whole  of  the 
entries  numbered  1234 — ^3^2,  i.e.  128  successive  notes, 
because  they  are  all  of  about  the  same  quality,  and  are 
evidently  notes  for  a  larger  collection  of  "  Colours  of  Good 
and  Evil,"  or  for  Essays,  or  discussions  in  some  of  the 
Sections  of  the  Novum  Organon  or  other  scientific  writings. 
Although  it  is  not  possible  to  connect  many  of  these  notes 
with  anything  actually  published,  yet  their  intention  is 
clear  ;  and  they  have  the  additional  interest  of  showing 


BACONIAN   GERMS  :    SHAKESPEAREAN   PLANTS.         201 

that  Bacon  contemplated  a  much  larger  collection  of 
"  Colours "  and  Essays  than  he  has  actually  completed. 
In  this  department  of  his  literary  work,  as  in  most  others, 
his  plans  and  designs  far  outstripped  his  actual  accomplish- 
ments. His  philosophy  is  a  magnificent  torso,  and  here 
are  some  of  the  fragments  of  the  unfinished  parts. 

Doubtless  many  more  of  the  notes  than  those  included 
in  the  foregoing  list  were  intended  for  and  probably  used 
in  his  prose  writings  :  such  as  the  terms  of  expression 
272 — 236  ;  and  1370  —1383,  and  a  few  others.  This  would 
add  70  or  80  more  to  the  395  already  pointed  out.  So  that 
one  may  make  a  rough  estimate — the  onl}^  kind  of  calcula- 
tion possible — of  500  as  the  number  of  notes  that  might 
have  been  used  in  such  compositions  as  are  usually  associ- 
ated with  Bacon's  name,  i.e.,  rather  less  than  one  third  of 
the  entire  collection. 

But  it  is  quite  certain  that  many  of  these  notes  not  only 
were  never  used  in  Bacon's  literary  and  philosophical 
writings,  but  they  were  not  intended  to  be  so  used,  they 
never  could  have  been  so  used,  they  must  have  been  col- 
lected for  a  different  purpose,  and  what  that  purpose  was 
it  would  be  interesting  to  find  out.  It  is  also  clear  that  a 
large  number  of  these  notes  correspond  to  passages  in 
Shakespeare,  and  a  still  larger  number  may  so  correspond 
— as  germ  to  plant — and  are  exactly  such  notes  as  the  poet 
of  Shakespeare  might  have  made.  Now,  if  there  are  any 
reasons  for  raising  the  question  of  the  authorship  of 
Shakespeare,  such  reasons  must  certainly  become  far  more 
pressing  when  we  find  that  the  character  of  so  large  a 
number  of  Promiis  notes  forces  us  to  the  conclusion  that 
Bacon  made  a  collection  such  as  the  author  of  Shakespeare 
might  have  used.  It  does  not  of  course  immediately 
follow  as  an  irresistible  conclusion  that  the  Shakespeare 
notes  are  connected  with  the  poems  in  exactly  the  same 
way  as  other  notes  are  related  to  the  prose.  These  notes 
need  not  be  thus  explained.  But  if  they  arc  not  so  ex- 
plained    they    are     absolutely    unaccountable — they    are 


202         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

enigmas,  puzzles,  anomalies  which  we  must  be  content  to 
accept  as  inscrutable  mysteries.  If  Bacon  wrote  Shake- 
speare the  Promus  is  intelligible— if  he  did  not,  it  is  an 
insoluble  riddle. 

The  Promus,  therefore,  if  it  does  not  prove,  makes  it 
antecedently  probable,  that  Bacon  was  during  some  part 
of  his  life  occupied  with  other  literary  work  than  that 
which  is  usually  attributed  to  him.  He  had  some  use,  for 
instance,  for  such  disjecta  membra  of  uncreated  dramatic 
compositions  as  the  following  scraps  of  dialogue  and 
repartee  : — 

195.  What  do  you  conclude  upon  that  ? 

197.  Repeat  your  reason. 

198.  Hear  me  out.     You  never  were  in. 

199.  You  judge  before  you  understand.  I  judge  as  I 
understand. 

200.  You  go  from  the  matter.    But  it  was  to  follow  you. 

201.  Come  to  the  point.  Why,  I  shall  not  find  you 
there. 

204.  You  take  more  than  is  granted.  You  grant  less 
than  is  proved. 

208.  Answer  directly.  You  mean  as  you  would  direct 
me. 

209.  Answer  me  shortly.  Yes  :  that  you  may  comment 
upon  it. 

Now  I  grant  that  it  is  not  easy  to  connect  these  frag- 
ments of  talk  with  passages  from  Shakespeare.  And  yet 
one  may  safely  affirm  that  these  little  dramatic  hints  are 
typically  Shakespearean.  Plenty  of  specimens  of  the  same 
kind  can  be  easily  produced  from  the  plays.  There  is 
much  of  this  kind  of  repartee  in  As  Yoii,  Like  It  and  in 
Much  Ado  :  ex.  gr.  : — 

Colin. — Besides,  our  hands  are  hard. 

ToHchsionc. — Your  lips  will  feel  them  then  the  sooner. 

{As  Yoit  Like  It  III.  ii.6o). 

CcUa. — I  pray  you  bear  with  me. 


GLIMPSES    INTO   BACON  S    PORTFOLIO.  203 

Rosaliini.—l  had  rather  bear  with  you  than  bear  you. 

(II.  iv.9). 

Orlando. — For  ever  and  a  da}'. 
Rosalind. — Say  a  day  without  the  ever. 

(IV.  i.  145). 

Ben. — Fair  Beatrice,  I  thank  you  for  your  pains. 
Beat. — I  took  no  more  pains  for  those  thanks  than  you  take 
pains  to  thank  me 

(Much  Ado  II.  iii.  258). 

Some  of  these  notes  sound  like  echoes  from  the  law- 
courts.  But  all  the  same  they  lend  colour  to  the  notion 
that  Bacon  was  a  writer  of  Dramas.  And  when  we  find 
other  passages  in  which  the  Shakespearean  affinity  is  quite 
unmistakable,  we  cannot  dismiss  the  question  of  Shake- 
spearean authorship  as  an  impertinence,  or  a  crank  which 
no  sober  critic  will  entertain.  For  here  the  question  is 
started,  and  placed  on  a  distinctly  historic  and  documen- 
tary basis.  In  this  respect  it  takes  its  place  side  by  side 
with  the  Northumberland  MS.,  which  shews  us  that  the 
MSS.  of  two  of  Shakespeare's  Plays,  Richard  II.  and 
Richard  III.,  were  at  one  time  in  Bacon's  portfolio,  and 
are  catalogued  among  his  owm  compositions  : — the  only 
place  in  the  world  which  can  be  thus  described.  It  proves 
also  that  Shakespeare's  Lucrcce  as  it  might  have  existed 
in  an  early  and  unfinished  draft,  was  known  to  Bacon's 
amanuensis.  For  the  line  that  is  scribbled  on  this  tell- 
tale title  page  is 

ReveaUng  day  through  every  crann}^  peeps. 

But  peeps  is  not  the  word — it  is  spies.  Peeps  would  have 
been  a  better  word  for  this  line,  but  the  exigency  of  rhyme 
excluded  it,  and  peeping  comes  in  subsequentl}'  in  the 
same  stanza  (see  Liicrece  1086 — lOgo). 

It  seems  to  me  that  if  any  considerable  number — say  50 
— of  the  Pronins  notes  can  be  clearly  connected  with 
passages  in  Shakespeare,  we  have  some  reason  for  thinking 
that  others    may   be  the   unrecognizable   germs   of  other 


204        SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

passages  ;  and  that  small  resemblances  may  have  a  large 
significance.  We  need  not  clutch  at  these  as  arguments 
too  eagerly:  but  on  the  other  hand  we  will  not  refuse  them 
as  non-significant  because  the  resemblance  between  them 
and  Shakespeare  is  faint.  As  an  illustration  I  may  take 
the  following  :— There  are  several  notes  referring  to  lodging 
and  the  neighbours  it  introduces.  Such  as  :  158.  I  do  not 
only  dwell  far  from  neighbours,  but  near  ill  neighbours. 
1203.  Qui  a  bon  voisin  a  bon  matin.  Lodged  next. 
1223.  You  could  not  sleep  for  your  ill  lodging.  1233.  I 
wish  you  may  so  weU  sleep  as  you  may  not  find  your  ill 
lodging.     And  1479  is  a  repetition  of  1203. 

Surely  that  is  not  a  very  extravagant  comparison  which 
brings  these  notes  into  relation  with  such  passages  as  the 
following  : — 

Our  bad  neighbour  makes  us  early  stirrers. 

{Hcniy  V.  IV.  i.  6). 

The  Scot  hath  been  still  a  giddy  neighbour  to  us. 

(lb.  I.  ii.  145,  154). 

Young  son,  it  argues  a  distemper'd  head 
So  soon  to  bid  good  morrow  to  thy  bed. 
Care  keeps  his  watch  in  every  old  man's  eye, 
And  where  care  lodges  sleep  will  never  lie. 

(Romeo  and  y-'iilict  II.  iii.  33). 

If  these  passages  are  related  as  seed  to  fruit  it  is  very 
interesting  to  see  how  the  poet  worked  ;  and  when  we 
come  across  a  group  of  nearly  50  consecutive  notes,  nearly 
every  one  of  which  calls  up  some  passage  in  one  play — as 
in  the  notes  from  1189  to  1233,  the  interest  is  not  lost,  it  is 
really  increased  if  the  resemblance  is  faint  and  indistinct. 
So  that  a  critic  who  fixes  on  one  detached  note  and  ridi- 
cules its  application  to  some  passage  because  the  re- 
semblance is  not  very  exact  or  striking,  misses  the 
significance  of  the  collection,  and  is  not  merely  hyper- 
critical, but  dense.  He  might  as  reasonably  deny  the 
relation  of  a  callow  nestling  to  the  parent  bird,  because  it 
has  few  and  fioculent  feathers  and  feeble  wings. 


HIGHLY    SIGNIFICANT    MEMORANDA.  205 

The  following  may  be  taken  as  specimens  in  which  the 
resemblance  between  seedling  and  plant  is  quite  clear  : — 

A'os.  53  &  998.     Conscieiitia  millc  testes. 

My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues. 

{Richard  III.  V.  iii.  193). 

Every  man's  conscience  is  a  thousand  swords  :  to  fight  &c. 

{lb.  V.  ii.  17). 
No.  106.  A  fool's  bolt  is  soon  shot. 
You  are  better  at  proverbs,  by  how  much,  A  fool's  bolt  is  soon 
shot.  {Henry  V.  III.  vii.  131). 

Duke. — By  my  faith  he  is  very  swift  and  sententious  : — ■ 

Touchstone. — According  to  the  fool's  bolt,  sir. 

(As  You  Like  It  V.  iv.  65). 

'Twas  but  a  bolt  of  nothing,  shot  at  nothing, 
Which  the  brain  makes  of  fumes. 

{CymbeUne  IV.  ii.  300). 

In  these  passages  we  see  how  the  suggestion  of  the  proverb 
expands  itself  into  moral  and  philosophical  sentiments. 

No.  493, — God  sendeth  foitune  to  fools. 

"  Good  morrow,  fool,"  quoth  I  :  "  Xo,  sir,"  quoth  he  ; 
"  Call  me  not  fool  till  heaven  hath  sent  me  fortune." 

{As  You  Like  It  II.  vii.  18) 

No.  639. — The  cat  -d'ould  eat  fish,  but  she  icill  not  icet  her  foot. 

Letting  /  dare  not  wait  upon  /  would, 

Like  the  poor  cat  i'  the  adage. 

{Mac.  I.  vii.  44). 

No.  648. — For  the  nwonsliine  in  the  icater. 

O,  vain  petitioner  !  beg  a  greater  matter  ; 

Thou  now  request'st  but  moonshine  in  the  water. 

{Love's  L.  L.  V.  it.  207). 

Never  gazed  the  moon 

Upon  the  water,  as  he'll  stand  and  read 

As  'twere  my  daughter's  eyes. 

(117/7.  Talc  IV.  iv.  172J. 

(Her  eyes)  which  througli  the  crystal  tears  give  light, 

Shone  like  the  moon  in  water  seen  by  night. 

{Vcn.  /i.491). 


206  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

No.  806 — Adonis  Gardens  :  {Tilings  of  great  pleasure,  but  soon  fading). 

Thy  promises  are  like  Adonis  gardens, 

That  one  day  bloom'd  and  fruitful  were  the  next. 

{i  Hen.VI.l.\'\.6). 

He  took  [all  the  learnings  of  his  time] 

As  we  do  air,  fast  as  'twas  ministered. 

An'  in's  spring  became  a  harvest.  {Cyinb.  I.  i.  44). 

Spring  come  to  you  at  the  farthest 

In  the  very  end  of  harvest.  {Tent.  IV.  i.  114). 

Bacon  uses  the  same  fancy  in  the  Hermit's  Speech  in  the 
Conference  of  Pleasure  :  —  "  The  gardens  of  love,  wherein 
he  now  playeth  himself,  are  fresh  to-day  and  fading  to- 
morrow."    ("Life"  I.  379). 

No.  889. — Clavuni  Clavo  pellcre. 

Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels, 

Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another. 

So  the  remembrance  of  my  former  love 

Is  by  a  newer  object  quite  forgotten. 

{T-d'o  Gen.  of  Ver.  II.  iv.  192). 

One  fire  drives  out  one  fire  :  one  nail,  one  nail ; 
Rights  by  rights  falter  ;  strengths  by  strengths  do  fail, 

{Cor.  IV.  vii.  54). 

As  fire  drives  out  fire,  so  pity,  pity. 

(J»/.  Ca's.  II.  i.  171). 

This  last  quotation,  when  compared  with  the  others, 
shows  how  the  hint  of  the  Promus  note  may  be  used,  while 
its  language  is  altered. 

No.  972. — Alivays  let  losers  have  their  'ii'ords. 

Then  give  me  leave,  for  losers  will  have  leave 
To  ease  their  stomachs  with  their  bitter  tongues. 

{Tit.A.m.\.22,3). 

I  can  give  the  loser  leave  to  chide. 

{2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  182). 

No.  1 1 15. — An  neseis  longas  regibiis  esse  mantis  f     {Ovid). 
This  figure  of  speech  is  to  be  found  two  or  three  times 


LONG    ARMS.  207 

in  Bacon's  prose,  and  several  times  in  Shakespeare.  In 
the  Sanquhar  trial  Bacon  said: — "Then  did  his  Majesty 
stretch  forth  his  long  arms  (for  kings  have  long  arms  when 
they  will  extend  them),  one  of  them  to  the  sea,  where  he 
took  hold  of  Grey,  shipped  for  Sweden  ;  the  other  arm  to 
Scotland,  and  took  hold  of  Carlisle."  {"  Life  "  IV.  293). 
And  again  in  the  trial  of  Somerset  for  Overbury's  murder. 
"  Alas,  Overbury  had  no  such  long  hand  as  to  reach  from 
the  other  side  of  the  sea  to  England,  to  forbid  your  banns 
or  cross  your  love."     ("  Life  "  V.  332). 

Bishop  Wordsworth  quotes  a  similar  Greek  proverb  : — 
jxaKpal  Tvpdvvwv  x^V^?.  The  Shakespeare  passages  in  which 
this  figure  is  used  are  the  following  : — 

Is  not  my  arm  of  length 
That  reacheth  from  the  restful  Enghsh  Court 
As  far  as  Calais,  to  mine  Uncle's  head  ? 

{Kidi.  II.  IV.  i.  11). 

Put  forth  thy  hand,  reach  at  the  glorious  gold  \_i.c.  the  crown]. 
What,  is't  too  short  ?     I'll  lengthen  it  with  mine,  etc. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  I.  ii.  ii). 

Dogged  York,  that  reaches  at  the  moon. 
Whose  overweening  arm  I  have  plucked  back. 

(//'.  Ill.i.  158). 

Great  men  have  reaching  hands  :  oft  have  I  struck 
Those  that  I  never  saw,  and  struck  them  dead. 

{lb.  IV.  vii.  87). 

His  sword 

Hath  a  sliarp  edge  ;  it's  long,  and  't  may  be  said 

It  reaches  far. 

[Hen.  VIII.  Li.  109). 

They  have  seemed  to  be  together  though  absent ;  shook  hands, 

as  over  a  vast. 
And  embraced,  as  it  were,  from  the  ends  of  opposed  winds. 

(IF.  r.r/.-I.i.  31). 

Have  I  in  conquest  stretched  mine  arm  so  far, 
To  be  afear'd  to  tell  grey  beards  the  truth  ? 

(:////.  Cas.  II.  ii.  66 j. 


208  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

His  legs  bestrid  the  ocean  ;  his  reared  arm 

Crested  the  world. 

(Anl.  ciiul  Clco.  V.  ii.  82). 

And  danger,  which  I  fear'd,  is  at  Antioch, 
Whose  arm  is  far  too  short  to  hit  me  here. 

[Pciic.  I.  ii.  7). 

I  will  now  give  some  illustrations  of  the  mode  in  which 
the  Promus  notes  may  illustrate  the  growth  and  develop- 
ment of  ideas,  both  in  the  prose  and  the  poetry. 

I. — The  Procus. 

The  70th  Promus  note  is  as  follows  : — Ttirpe  est  proco 
anciUam  sollicitare  ;  est  autein  virtutis  ancilla  laus.  It  is 
base — [or  detestable']  for  a  suitor  to  woo,  [or  solicit, — or  give 
his  heart  to]  his  lady's  handmaiden  :  but  praise  is  virtue's 
handmaiden. 

This  moral  aphorism  is  used  two  or  three  times  by 
Bacon.  In  his  letter  of  advice  to  Rutland  he  thus  intro- 
duces it, — "  We  should  both  seek  and  love  virtue  for  itself, 
and  not  for  praise  :  for  as  one  said,  Turpe  est'''  &c.  ("  Life" 

II.  15). 

The  best  illustration  of  this  aphorism  is  to  be  found  in 
the  opening  sentences  of  Bacon's  Apology.  He  begins 
by  a  justification  of  the  apology  itself.  Addressing  the 
Earl  of  Devonshire  he  writes  : — "  It  may  please  your  good 
Lordship,  I  cannot  be  ignorant  and  ought  to  be  sensible, 
of  the  wrong  which  I  sustain  in  common  speech,  as  if  I 
had  been  false  or  unthankful  to  that  noble,  but  unfortunate 
Earl,  the  Earl  of  Essex.  And  for  satisfying  the  vulgar 
sort,  I  do  no  so  much  regard  it ;  though  I  love  good  name, 
but  yet  as  an  handmaid  and  attendant  of  honesty  and 
virtue.  For  I  am  of  his  opinion  that  said  pleasantly, — 
TJiat  it  was  a  shame  to  him  that  was  a  suitor  to  the  mistress  to 
make  love  to  the  waiting-woman  ; — and  therefore  to  love  or 
court  common  fame  otherwise  than  it  followeth  upon 
honest  courses,  I,  for  my  part,  do  not  find  myself  fit  or 
disposed."  ("  Life  "  III.  141).    The  parable  is  plain:  his  first 


CONFLICTING    MOTIVES.  2O9 

allegiance  is  due  to  virtue  ;  to  honest  courses.  Praise,  or 
fame,  or  good  name  and  fair  repute,  is  sweet, — he  would 
fain  have  her  smiles  also  ;  but  praise  is  a  handmaid  waiting 
upon  virtue,  whose  favours  and  smiles  must  be  given  for 
her  mistress's  sake,  for  no  other  reason.  I  will  not  woo 
praise  as  a  lover, — for  its  own  sake  :  but  I  will  be  thankful 
for  the  friendly  glances  she  bestows  on  her  mistress's 
suitor.  The  latter  motto  has  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  been 
traced  to  any  classic  source,  and  it  is  only  known  in 
Bacon's  writings.  Perhaps  he  was  himself  the  pleasant 
writer  whom  he  quotes,  just  as  Macaulay  used  to  make  an 
unknown  "judicious  poet  "  the  sponsor  of  his  own  fancies. 
It  may,  perhaps,  be  traced  to  some  of  the  immediate 
followers  of  Socrates.  For  Bacon  has  an  Apophthegm 
(i8g)  which  seems  to  bring  the  aphorism  into  close  re- 
lationship with  Aristippus  :  "  Aristippus  said,  That  those 
that  studied  particular  sciences  and  neglected  philosophy 
were  like  Pentelope's  wooers,  that  made  love  to  the 
waiting  women."     (Works  VII.  151). 

Now  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Bacon's  Procus  and 
Bacon's  Ancilla  are  both  secreted  in  a  passage  of  Love's 
Labour's  Lost.  The  Princess  of  France  is  invited  by  the 
King  of  Navarre  to  a  deer-hunt  in  his  park,  and  is  posted 
with  bow  and  arrows  on  the  edge  of  a  coppice  where  she 
may  most  conveniently  aim  at  the  deer  as  they  pass.  The 
gentle  lady  shrinks  from  the  cruelty  of  the  sport,  and  yet 
wishes  to  win  credit  by  shooting  skilfull}'.  She  is  per- 
plexed by  these  conflicting  motives.  Mercy  tells  her  not 
to  aim  straight,  for  the  deed  accomplished  by  a  good  shot 
is  an  ill  deed,  So  she  plays  in  a  sort  of  logical  fence  with 
the  situation,  and  tries  to  find  out  how  she  may  save  her 
credit  whether  she  kills  or  not.  If  she  misses  she  will  get 
credit  for  pity  ;  if  she  hits  she  will  be  praised  for  skill.  She 
takes  the  bow  from  the  Forester  saying, — 

But  come — the  bow  : — now  mercy  goes  to  kill 
And  shooting  well  is  then  accounted  ill. 


210        SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

TIiiis^'  will  I  save  my  credit  in  the  shoot: 
Not  wounding, — pity,  would  not  let  me  do  it  : 
If  wounding, — then  it  was  to  show  my  skill, 
That  more  for  praise  than  purpose  mean't  to  kill. 

And  now  follows  Bacon's  aphorism,  the  outcome  of  all 
this  sophistication  :  — 

And  out  of  question,  so  it  is  sometimes. 

Glory  grows  guilty  of  detested  crimes, 

When  for  fame's  sake,  for  praise,  an  outward  part, 

We  bend  to  that  the  working  of  the  heart  : — 

As  I,  for  praise  alone,  now  seek  to  spill 

The  poor  deer's  blood,  that  my  heart  means  no  ill. 

(See  the  whole  passage — L.  L.  L.  IV.  i.  9 — 35). 

I  can  almost  fancy  that  the  next  Promus  note,  No.  71, 
may  have  some  relation  to  this  passage,  for  it  claims 
pardon  for  humanity  whatever  mistakes  it  may  make — if  it 
shoots  badly,  yet  it  has  its  own  independent  merit.  The 
note  is  —  Si  suuni  cinque  trihuendnm  est,  ccrte  et  venia 
liunianitati.  If  every  one  is  entitled  to  its  own,  certainly 
humanity  may  claim  indulgence  (The  moiio  Suum  cinque 
is  quoted  in  Titus  An.  I.  i.  280). 

That  the  Latin  aphorism,  which  seems  to  have  been 
Bacon's  private  property,  is  really  lying  perdu  in  these 
lines  can  scarcely  be  disputed.  Glory  :  is  the  Procus,  who 
is  hunting  after  Vain-glory :  his  name  is  Gloriosus  ;  the 
object  of  his  lawless  love  is  ostentation  or  vulgar  fame. 
And  in  Bacon's  Antitheta  on  Vain  Glory  he  appears  side 
by  side  with  the  Procus.  For  the  first  of  the  three 
aphorisms  on  the  Contra  side  is, — Gloriosi  semper  factiosi, 
niendaces,  mobiles,  nimii — The  gloriosi  are  always  factious, 
liars,  inconstant,  extreme.  Then  follows  as  a  second 
aphorism  Thraso  Gnathonis  prceda ;  the  thrasonical  person 
is  a  prey  to  Gnatho — the  boaster  is  cozened  by  the  parasite; 

*This  formula  of  Casuistry, — Tlitis  will  I  reason, — is  found  in  tlie 
Sonnets  : — 

Thus  can  my  love  excuse,  &c. — Son.  51. 
Thus  I  will  excuse  ye. — Son.  42. 


PKOCUS  SECRETED  IN  SHAKESPEARE.         211 

(alluding  to   characters    in    the    Eunuchus    of    Terence). 
[It  is  as  well  to  note  that  the  word  thrasonical  occurs  twice 
in  Shakespeare — in  Love's  Labotir's  Lost  SLXid  As  You  Like  It. 
It  is  also  used  by  Bacon  in   his  description  of  Overbury, 
poisoned  by  Lady  Somerset  :    "  Overbury  was,  of  an  in- 
solent, Thrasonical  disposition."     "Life"  V.  312].     And 
the  last  of  the  three  aphorisms  is  our  new  acquaintance  the 
Procus  ;    the   same,    therefore,    as  Gloriosus,     The  other 
terms   of  the  Latin  aphorism  are  freely  translated  in  the 
poetry.       Turpe  est   is  represented  by  "guilty  of  detested 
crimes."     The /1;jcz7/«  is  praise,  the  handmaiden  being  "an 
outward  part."     The  crime,  anciUam  sollicitare,  is   "bend- 
ing  the   working    of  the    heart  "  to  the  outward  part, — 
fame,  or    praise  —  Laus    is    the  attendant  in  both  cases. 
The    lines    themselves    are    rather    scholastic  and  dry  in 
their    tone,  and    the    reason    is    plain — they    represent  a 
fanciful  but  somewhat  subtle  philosophical  axiom ;  when 
the  connection  is  apprehended  the  verse  at  once  becomes 
luminous,  and  starts  into  poetical  beauty.     The  lines  are 
Baconian  throughout,  in  expression  and  thought.     Out  of 
.question  is   a    variation    of   Bacon's  constantly  recurring, 
Certainly,  or  It  is  certain,  which  is  familiar  to  all  readers 
of  the  Essays.     This  special  variation  Out  of  question,  or 
There   is    no    question,  or    Out  of  all  question,  is  found  in 
Essays  19,  29,  58  :    in  Apophthegm    39,  and   in  Syl.  Syl. 
915.     This  same  Promus  note  may  be  traced  also  in  the 
•couplet  to  the  84th  Sonnet : — 

You  to  your  beauteous  blessing  add  a  curse 

Being  fond  on  praise,  which  makes  3'our  praises  worse. 

The  whole  Sonnet  refers  to  the  "rich  praise"  which  his 
subject  can  inspire  in  any  poet  who  makes  his  qualities  the 
theme  of  his  verse.  The  curious  expression  fond  on  praise, 
cannot  be  well  understood  without  Bacon's  help,  and  thus 
mterpreted  the  couplet  gains  new  interest  and  its  interior 
meaning  is  ascertained.  Fond  on  praise  is  the  lawless  love 
•of  the  Procus  who  pays  too  much  attention  to  the  Ancilla, 


212         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

This  is  a  specimen  of  the  sort  of  comment  on  Shake- 
speare which  might  be  indefinitely  increased  if  the  critics 
were  wise  enough  to  bring  Bacon's  prose  to  throw  light  on 
Shakespeare's  poetry. 

2, — Hail  of  Pearl. 

Prontus  Note  872  is  Haile  of  perle. 

When  we  find  in  Shakespeare  this  singular  fancy,  we 
must  admit  that  there  is  some  vital  nexus  between  Shake- 
speare and  the  Prouins.  Cleopatra  is  wildly  eager  to  know 
what  news  Anthony's  messenger  has  brought,  and  yet  will 
only  listen  to  favourable  reports  : — 

If  thou  dost  say  Anthony  lives,  is  well. 

Or  friends  with  Ciesar,  or  not  captive  to  him, 

I'll  set  thee  in  a  shower  of  gold,  and  liail 

Rich  pearls  upon  thee. 

(Ant.  C/.  II.  V.  43). 

The  resemblance  between  pearls  and  hailstones  is  used  in 
Bacon's  "  Device,"  In  the  reply  of  the  Squire  to  the 
corrupt  statesman  we  find  the  following  : — "  But  give  ear 
now  to  the  comparison  of  my  master's  condition,  and 
acknowledge  such  a  difference  as  is  betwixt  the  melting 
hailstone  and  the  solid  pearl."  ("  Life  "  I.  384.) 
See  the  growth  of  the  fancy  in  three  stages  : — 

1.  In  Bacon's  "  Device"  the  hailstone  and  the  pearl  are 
contrasted  ;  their  outward  resemblance  gives  point  to  the 
contrast  between  the  melting,  evanescent  condition  of  the 
one,  and  the  fixed,  enduring  state  of  the  other. 

2.  The  Promus  note  seizes  on  the  resemblance  and 
puts  aside  the  contrast,  and  imagines  a  shower  in  which 
the  hailstones  are  not  melting  but  lasting, — a  shower  of 
pearls. 

3.  The  lines  from  Antony  and  Cleopatra  adopt  the 
idea  first  expressed  in  the  "  Device,"  and  subsequently 
developed  in  the  Promus,  and  apply  the  fancy  to  the 
rich  gifts  showered  by  a  princess  upon  a  messenger  who 


ULYSSES    SLY    IN    SPEECH   AND    ACT.  213 

earns  her  thanks  by  bringing  good  news  of  her  lover.    The 
two  earlier  points  of  view  are  united. 

The  development  of  this  fancy  is  surely  highly  interesting. 

3. — Ulysses, 

The   Pronms    note    463   is    Nee  fandi    fictor    Ulysses — 
Ulysses  sly  in  speech.     The  words  are  taken  from  Virgil's 
^neid,  IX.  602,  and  this  is  an  echo  of  Homer's  cTrtKAoTros 
ixv6(jiv,   (Iliad  xxii.   281),  thievish  or  wily  and  cunning  in 
speech.     Bacon  thus  notes  that  slyness  is  the  mark  and 
characteristic  of  Ulysses,  and  registers  the  fact  for  literary 
use.     In  Bacon's  prose  works  this  quality  is  not  referred 
to,  Ulysses  is  two  or  three  times  mentioned  as  the  man 
^^  qui  vctulam  prcBtulit  immorialiiati,  being  a  figure  of  those 
which   prefer    custom   and    habit  before   all  excellency." 
(See  "Adv.   ofL."  Works  319,  and  Essay  8,    on   "Mar- 
riage.")    But  of  his  slyness  no  mention  is  made.     He  is 
also    referred    to    in   the    "Wisdom    of    the   Ancients;" 
defeating  the  Sirens  by  stuffing  the  ears  of  his  crew  with 
wax,  while  he  himself,  with  unstopped  ears,  was  tied  to  the 
mast.     (Works  VI.  684,  762.)     Perhaps  this  may  be  taken 
as  an  instance  of  crafty  behaviour,  though  not  of  cunning 
speech.     But  if  the  note  of  slyness  is  absent  in  the  prose  it 
is  present  in  the  poetry.     In  Shakespeare,  Ulysses  is  never 
casually  mentioned  without  reference  to  his  slyness,  and 
when  he  appears  himself  on  the  stage  his  counsel  is  marked 
by  that  subtlety  or  astuteness  which  the  Pronms  indicates. 
In  Lucrece  his  portrait  is  studied  : 

But  the  mild  glance  which  sly  Ul3^sses  lent 
Shewed  deep  regard  and  smiling  government 

Luc.  1399. 

Smiling  often  seems  to  be  in  Shakespeare  a  note  or 
expedient  of  slyness.  Hamlet  makes  an  entry  in  his  note 
book,  about  the  smiling  damned  villain — "that  one  may 
smile,  and  smile  and  be  a  villain."  Richard  III.  can 
"Smile  and  murder  when  he  smiles  ;  "  he  can  "speak  fair 


214  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

and  smile  in  men's  faces,"  while  he  is  plotting  mischief 
against  them.  Donaldbain  in  Macbeth  says,  "There's 
daggers  in  men's  smiles  ; "  and  Richard  II.  speaks  of  his 
rival  and  supplanter  Bolingbroke  as  "  Wooing  poor 
craftsmen  with  the  craft  of  smiles."  In  these  and  other 
passages  which  might  be  referred  to  we  can  see  how  in 
Shakespeare's  mind  smiling  and  slyness  are  associated. 
Some  such  idea  may  have  been  working  in  Bacon's  mind 
when  he  entered  into  his  Promus  the  note  (501),  "  Better 
is  the  last  smile  than  the  first  laughter."  At  any  rate  it 
suggests  that  he  had  to  some  extent  studied  the  significance 
of  smiles. 

Of  all  Shakespeare's  characters  Richard  III.  is  the  most 
crafty  and  designing  and  perfidious.  Slyness  may  well  be 
attributed  to  him.  So  it  is,  but  Ulysses  is  the  type  to 
which  slyness  is  referred. 

I'll  play  the  orator  as  well  as  Nestor, 
Deceive  more  slyly  than  Ulysses  could. 

3  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  188. 

Some  of  the  speeches  of  Ulysses  in  Troilus  and  Crcssida  are 
of  surpassing  wisdom  and  depth  ; — slyness  is  too  vulgar 
and  grovelling  an  attribute  to  be  connected  with  them. 
Yet  even  here  a  subtlety  of  contrivance  is  shown,  which 
on  a  lower  level  of  action  might  pass  for  slyness.  In  order 
to  chastise  the  pride  of  Achilles,  he  wishes  that  Hector's 
challenge,  which  is  really  levelled  at  Achilles,  should  be 
accepted  by  some  inferior  champion,  so  that  the  reputation 
of  Achilles  may  dwindle  by  the  invidious  comparison. 
This,  surely,  is  slyness  in  cxcdsis — the  very  apotheosis  of 
the  quality  :  indeed,  Ulysses  himself  compares  his  counsel 
to  a  tradesman's  trick,  and  calls  his  slyness  a  "device." 

'Tis  meet  Achilles  meet  not  Hector. 

Let  us,  like  merchants,  show  our  foulest  wares, 

And  think  perchance  they'll  sell  ;  if  not, 

The  lustre  of  the  better,  yet  to  show, 

Shall  show  the  better.   .   .  .  No,  make  a  lottery, 


USAGE    OF    THE    WORD    SLEIGHT.  215 

And  b\'  device  let  blockish  Ajax  draw 

The  sort  to  fight  with  Hector  :  among  ourselves 

Give  him  allowance  for  the  better  man, 

Hit  or  miss. 
Our  project's  life  this  shape  of  sense  assumes 
Ajax,  emplo3'ed,  plucks  down  Achilles'  plumes. 

{Tro.  Crcs.  I.  iii.  358-386). 

If  such  counsel  as  this  were  irreverently  criticized,  it 
would  be  called  sly  :  and  accordingly,  Thersites,  the  type 
of  irreverence  and  scorn,  speaks  of  Ulysses  as  "  that  dog- 
fox."    {lb.  V.  iv.  12). 

To  show  how  the  note  of  slyness  attaches  to  Ulysses  by 
a  sort  of  necessity,  we  may  observe  the  terms  in  which  he 
is  referred  to  by  Warwick,  who  has  a  design  on  foot  to 
surprise  and  seize  the  young  King  Edward  : — 

Our  scouts  have  found  the  adventure  very  easy  : 

That  as  Ulysses  and  great  Diomede 

With  sleight  and  manhood  stole  to  Rhesus'  tents, 

And  brought  from  thence  the  Thracian  fatal  steeds, 

So  we,  etc. 

(3  Hai.  17.  IV.  ii.  18). 

Observe  that  sleight  is  connected  with  Ulysses,  and  man- 
hood with  Diomede.  Sleight,  so  spelt,  evidently  means 
slyness;  this  is  its  proper  meaning — a  one-syllable  variation 
of  slyness  was  wanted,  and  here  it  is.  The  word,  so  spelt, 
occurs  nowhere  else  in  "Shakespeare."  But  the  same 
word  is  used  in  Macbeth,  spelt  slight.  The  meaning,  how- 
ever, requires  the  diphthong.  The  witch,  Hecate,  is 
speaking,  and  describes  her  deceptive  arts  : — 

Upon  the  corner  of  the  moon 

There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  profound  : 

I'll  catch  it  ere  it  come  to  ground, 

And  that,  distill'd  by  magic  slights, 

Shall  raise  such  artificial  sprites. 

As  by  the  strength  of  their  illusion 

Shall  draw  him  on  to  his  confusion. 

{Macb.  III.  V.  23). 

Doubtless  this  should  be  spelt  sleights.    But  as  Ulysses  was 


2l6         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

not  in  evidence,  the  poet  had  nothing  to  keep  him  on  the 
alert  to  maintain  by  accurate  spelling  the  correlation  of 
the  word  with  slyness.  This  motive  secured  the  proper 
spelling  in  3  Hen.  VI. 

Philologists  say  that  sleigh  is  the  old  form  of  sl3^  Bacon 
uses  the  word  sleight  in  the  Squire's  speech  in  the  Device  : — 
*'  Jugglers  are  no  longer  in  request  when  their  tricks  and 
sleights  are  once  perceived."     ("  Life  "  I.  384). 

It  is  plain  then  that  Shakespeare's  references  to  Ulysses 
show  that  he  had  probably  made  a  private  note  in  his 
collection  of  hints  for  invention  to  this  effect:  "  N.B. — 
Ulysses  must  always  be  sly."  The  Promus  gives  us  the  note 
in  question. 

Marlowe  evidently  shared  the  opinion  of  Bacon  and 
Shakespeare  about  Ulysses.     Thus  in  Dido  : — 

See  how  the  night,  Ulysses-hke,  comes  forth, 

And  intercepts  the  day  as  Dolon  Erst. 

{Dido  I .  i.  70). 

Dolon  was  a  spy  of  the  Trojans,  slain  by  Diomede.  And 
again  in  the  same  play,  Sinon  is  the  tool  of  Ulysses. 

Ulysses  on  the  sand, 
Assayed  with  honeyed  words  to  turn  them  back  .  .  . 
And  therewithal!  he  called  false  Sinon  forth— 
A  man,  compact  of  craft  and  perjury, 

Whose  'ticing  tongue  was  made  of  Hermes'  pipe  .  .  .  and  him 
Ulysses  sent  to  our  unhapp}'  town.  {lb.  II.  i.  136-147). 

4. — Voluntary  Forgetting. 

Forgetting,  not  spontaneously  or  unavoidably, — but 
artificially  and  voluntarily, — is  referred  to  in  some  Promus 
notes.     It  is  twice  repeated. 

Note  403.     ii6S.~Aii  of  forgLUniii. 
114  and  1232. —  WcU  to  forgcl. 

Artificial  forgetfulness  is  not,  I  believe,  referred  to  in 
the   prose   works :    nor    is   it    likely  to   appear  except  in 


FORGETTING    ONE  S    SELF.  217 

"  Works  of  Invention,"  but  it  is  frequent  in  "  Shakespeare." 
For  example  : — 

Unless  you  could  teach  me  to  forget  a  banished  father,  you  must 
not  learn  me  how  to  remember  any  extraordinary  pleasure. 

(.4s  You  Like  II  I.  ii.  5). 

Bcnvolio. — Be  ruled  by  me,  forget  to  think  of  her. 

Romeo. — O  teach  me  how  I  should  forget  to  think  ,  .  . 
He  that  is  strucken  blind  cannot  forget 
The  precious  treasure  of  his  eyesight  lost  .  .  . 
Farewell,  thou  can'st  not  teach  me  to  forget. 

{Rom.  Jul.  I.  i.  232). 

Note  1,232  is  among  the  set  evidently  collected  for  use 
in  the  composition  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  a  lively  picture 
of  the  art  of  forgetting  is  given  in  one  passage. 

Juliet. — I  have  forgot  why  I  did  call  thee  back. 

Romeo. — Let  me  stand  here  till  thou  remember  it. 

Juliet. — I  shall  forget,  to  have  thee  still  stand  there, 
Remembering  how  I  love  thy  company. 

Romeo. — And  I'll  still  stay  to  have  thee  still  forget, 
Forgetting  any  other  home  but  this. 

[lb.  II.  ii.  171). 

The  same  conceit  is  found  elsewhere. 

I  will  forget  that  Julia  is  alive. 
Remembering  that  my  love  to  her  is  dead. 

(Two  Gent.  Vcr.  II.  vi.  27). 

Shall  I  forget  myself  to  be  mj-self  ? 

Ay,  if  yourself's  remembrance  wrong  yourself. 

{Rich.  III.  IV.  iv.  420). 

And  in  Marlowe  we  find,  in  a  very  Shakespearean  passage: 

Come  death,  and  with  thy  fingers  close  my  ej'cs, 
Or  if  I  live,  let  me  forget  myself. 

{Edisi'ard  II.  V.  i.  no). 

The  same  sentiment,  but  more  disguised,  is  in  the  follow- 
ing:— 

I  am  not  mad:  I  would  to  heaven  I  were, 


2r8         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

For  tlieu  'tis  like  I  should  forget  myself. 
O  if  I  could,  what  grief  should  I  forget  ! 
Preach  some  philosophy  to  make  me  mad, 
And  thou  shalt  be  canonized.  Cardinal. 

Cjolin  III.  iv.  48). 

It  is  clear  that  voluntary  oblivion  is  equally  familiar  to  the 
note-maker  who  compiled  the  Proinus,  and  to  Shakespeare. 

5. — Like  One's  Self. 

The  maxim  that  every  one  should  study  consistency  in 
his  acts  and  words  is  one  that  might  be  as  commonplace 
with  any  writer.  But  when  this  maxim  is  invariably 
expressed  as  the  duty  of  being  like  one's  self,  the  sentiment 
ceases  to  be  commonplace — it  is  a  mark  of  individualit}'. 
The  Promus  gives  us  (1,142)  the  motto  on  which  this  canon 
of  behaviour  is  based  :  Nil  nialo  quain  illos  similes  esse  sni 
et  me  niei.  I  wish  for  nothing  more  than  that  they  should 
be  like  themselves,  while  I  am  like  myself. 

This  was  Bacon's  motto  from  his  earliest  life.  In  the 
well-known  letter  to  Lady  Burghley,  dated  Sept.  16,  1580, 
he  excuses  himself  for  deficient  familiarity  with  the  "  cere- 
monies of  Court,"  and  adds,  "  My  thankful  and  service- 
able mind  shall  be  always  like  itself,  however  it  vary  from 
the  common  disguising  "  ("  Life,"  I.  12).  In  the  year  1589 
the  same  is  repeated.  In  church  controversies  it  is  to  be  re- 
membered that  "  a  fool  was  to  be  answered,  but  not  by  be- 
coming like  him," — "these  things  will  not  excuse  the 
imitation  of  evil  in  another.  It  should  be  contrariwise  with 
us,  as  Caesar  said,  Nil  Malo,"  &c.  (lb.  jj). 

In  dealing  with  the  Parliament,  Bacon  repeatedly  urges 
the  King  not  to  "descend  to  any  means,  or  degree  of 
means,  which  "  carrieth  not  a  symmetry  with  3'our  majesty 
and  greatness."  "I  am  still  of  opinion  that  above  all 
things  your  Majesty  should  not  descend  below  yourself." 

("Life,"IV.  313,  369). 

In  the  charge  against  Owen,  Bacon  enumerates  various 
offences  which  might  have  provoked  the   King — "  he  hath 


_, ) 


REMEMBERING    ONE  S    SELF.  2I9 

been  irritated.  .  .  .  And  yet  I  see  his  Majesty  keepeth 
Caesar's  rule — Nil  Malo,  &c. ;  he  leaveth  them  to  be  like 
themselves,  and  he  remaineth  like  himself,  and  striveth  to 
overcome  evil  with  goodness."     (Life,"  155,   162). 

To  show  how  the  same  sentiment,  similarly  expressed,  is 
familiar  to  Shakespeare,  the  following  passages  will  suffice, 
without  further  comment  :— 

0  now  you  look  like  Hubert  !  all  this  while 
You  were  disguised. 

{John  IV.   i.   126). 

The  King  is  not  himself,  but  basely  led 

By  flatterers. 

{Rich.  II.  II.  i.  241). 

See,  see,  King  Richard  doth  himself  appear  .  .  . 

Yet  looks  he  like  a  King. 

{lb.  III.  iii.  62,  68). 

1  shall  hereafter,  my  thrice  gracious  Lord, 
Be  more  myself. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  III.  ii.  92). 

Then  should  the  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 
Assume  the  port  of  Mars. 

{Hen.  v.  I.,  Prol.  5). 

Whate'er  it  be,  be  thou  still  like  thyself. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  III.  iii.  15). 

A}^  now  my  sovereign  speaketh  like  himself. 

{Ih.  IV.  vii.  67). 

But  he  fell  to  himself  again,  and  sweetly 

In  all  the  rest  show'd  a  most  noble  patience. 

{Hen.  VIII.  II.  i.  35). 

I  do  profess 

You  speak  not  like  yourself. 

{lb.  II.  iv.  84). 

While  I  remain  above  the  ground,  you  shall 
Hear  from  me  still,  and  never  of  me  aught 
But  what  is  like  me  formerly. 

{Coriol.  IV.  i.  51). 

Always  I  am  Ciesar. 

{Jul.  Cccsar  I.  ii.  212). 


220  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

I'll  seem  the  fool  I  am  not:  Antony- 
Will  be  himself. 

{Aiif.  CI.  I.  i.  42). 

Sir,  sometimes  when  he  is  not  Antony 
He  comes  too  short  of  that  ^^reat  property 
Wliich  still  should  go  with  Antony. 

{lb.  I.  i.  56). 

I  shall  entreat  him 

To  answer  like  himself. 

{lb.  II.  ii.  3). 

Had  our  general 
Been  what  he  knew  himself,  it  had  gone  well. 

(lb.   III.  X.  26). 

To  thine  own  self  be  true. 

{Hcwi.  I.  iii.  78). 

Make  me  but  like  my  thoughts. 

{All's  Well  III.  iii.  ro). 

These  specimens  of  the  hints  for  Shakespearean  comment 
to  be  derived  from  the  Promus  may  suffice.  The  full 
significance  of  this  singular  note-book  has  not  been  yet 
brought  to  light;  it  contains  ample  material  for  students 
of  Shakespeare  and  Bacon  yet  to  work  upon.  There  are 
man}'  turns  of  expression  which  seem  so  commonplace 
that  it  is  difficult  to  understand  why  they  were  inserted. 
And  yet  even  in  these  we  may  sometimess  hit  upon  phrases 
extremely  characteristic  of  the  philosopher  and  the  poet. 
For  instance,  the  Note  292 — Few  words  needed — seems  a 
very  useless  memorandum.  But  it  represents  a  mode  of 
speech  singularly  frequent  in  Bacon  and  Shakespeare. 
Bacon,  in  one  of  his  speeches  addressed  to  the  King,  begins 
his  closing  paragraph  with,  "  It  remaineth  only  that  I  use 
a  few  words,  the  rather  to  move  your  Majesty  in  this 
cause:  a  few  words  I  say — a  very  few."  ("Life,"  III.  186). 
In  another  speech,  promising  brevity,  he  says:  "  I  will 
apply  some  admonitions,  not  vulgar  or  discursive,  but  apt 
for  the  times,  and  in  few  words,  for  they  are  best  remem- 
bered."    ("Life,"   VI.   203).      In  Shakespeare  we   have, 


TURNS    OF    EXPRESSION.  221 

"  Few  words  suffice"  {Taiii.  Shrew  I.  ii.  66).  "  In  a  few  " 
occurs  more  than  once  (extract  from  Tavt.  Sh.  I,  ii.  52). 
"  In  a  few  words,  but  spacious  in  effect  "  {Timon  III.  v.  97. 
Paiica  verba — Mcr.  Wives  I.  i.  and  Love's  Labour's  Lost 
IV.  ii.). 

Pauca,  simply, — Merry  Wives,  Henry  V .^Paucas pallabrias. 
Tarn.  Sh.  and  Henry  V.  Fewness  and  truth.  Measure  for 
Measiire  I.  v.  39.     See  also  3  Parnassus  1567. 

I  find  that  strange  (302)  is  frequent  in  both  groups  of 
writings.     It  is  not  current  speech. 

Of  these  turns  of  expression  none  is  more  curious 
than  What  Else  ?  Nos.  307  and  1,400.  For  on  looking 
into  the  use  of  this  little  phrase  in  Shakespeare  we 
always  find  it  means  what  a  lively  up-to-date  youth  would 
express  by  Why  certainly  1  or,  Of  course.  An  example  or 
two  will  make  this  clear. 

Tranio. — Sir,  this  is  the  house,  please  it  3'ou  that  I  call  ? 
Pedant. — Ay,  what  else  ? 

{Tain.  Sli.  IV.  iv.  i). 

Men. — Shall's  to  the  Capitol  ? 

Com. — O,  ay,  what  else  ? 

{Cor.  IV.  vi.  147). 

BoUngbrokc. — Will  her  ladyship  behold  and  hear  our  exorcisms  ? 

Hume. — Ay  ;  what  else  ? 

(2  Hen.  VI.  I.  iv,  5). 

Wardi'ick. — And,  Clarence,  now  then  it  is  more  than  needful. 

Forthwith  that  Edward  be  pronounced  a  traitor,  &c. 

C/a/-.— What  else  ? 

(3  Hen.  VI.  IV.  vi.  56). 

In  one  case  it  is  expanded  into  What  shall  we  do  else  ? 
Twelfth  Night  I.  iii.  146.  And  there  are  other  illustrations. 
What  else?  occurs  in  Marlowe's  Edward  H.  the  most 
Shakespearean  of  the  Marlowe  plays,  IV.  vi.  117  ;  V.  iv. 
23  ;  V.  25,  32,  and  always  with  the  same  meaning. 

The  Proinus  may  not  prove  that  Bacon  wrote  Shake- 
speare, but  it  assuredly  proves  that  he  had  literary  designs 
to  which  none  of  his  acknowledged  writings  correspond : 


222         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

and  it  proves  that  there  is  no  j^ood  reason  why  we  should 
not  search  in  EHzabethan  dramatic  Hterature  for  an 
explanation  of  these  designs  ;  it  proves  that  the  Shake- 
spearean drama  has  as  good  a  claim  as  any  other  to  be 
included  in  this  quest ;  and  if  no  other  work  of  invention 
can  put  in  a  superior  or  equal  claim,  it  distinctly  opens  the 
question — Does  not  the  Promus  supply  some  positive 
indications  that  Shakespeare  is  the  key  that  unlocks  this 
enigma?  Henceforth  our  quest  is  justified  by  documentary 
evidence,  and  to  dismiss  it  with  contempt  or  by  trans- 
parently inconclusive  or  evasive  arguments  is  both 
impertineiiL  and  irrational,  in  either  the  classical  or 
vernacular  sense  of  the  word,  im.pertinent. 


223 


CHAPTER     XII. 

ECHOES     AND     CORRESPONDENCIES. 

Baconian  echoes  in  Shakespeare  are  so  abundant,  that  the 
absence  of  any  reference  to  them  in  the  notes  of  annotated 
plays  is  very  remarkable.  Shakespeare  editors  are,  of 
course,  strongly  opposed  to  the  Baconian  theory  ;  but  that 
is  no  reason  for  ignoring  Bacon,  and  even  from  the  Shake- 
spearean point  of  view  these  comparisons  are  very 
interesting  and  instructive ;  in  many  cases  they  suppl}^ 
valuable  interpretation.  The  introduction  of  these  notes 
would  doubtless  lend  some  support  to  our  argument, — but 
surely  that  is  no  good  reason  for  neglecting  them.  The 
abundance  of  them  may  be  indicated  by  the  crudest 
statistics  of  one  collection.  The  first  volume  of  Mr. 
Donnelly's  "Great  Cryptogram," — in  which  the 
cryptogram  is  not  discussed,  that  being  left  to  the  second, 
— is  the  most  masterly  and  convincing  statement  of  the 
Baconian  case  ever  published.  It  is  a  large  royal  octavo 
book  of  502  pages  ;  and,  of  these,  208  pages  are  devoted  to 
Parallelisms.  There  are  nine  chapters  dealing  with — i. 
Identical  Expressions.  2.  Identical  Metaphors.  3. 
Identical  Opinions.  4.  Identical  Quotations.  5.  Identical 
Studies.  6.  Identical  Errors.  7.  Identical  use  of  unusual 
words.  8.  Identities  of  Character,  and  g.  Identities  of 
Style.  To  my  mird  the  probative  force  of  this  enormous 
collection  is  irresistible.  The  only  wa}'  of  evading  it  is  to 
deny  the  argument  derived  from  parallels  altogether.  But 
this  would  be  to  inflict  fatal  damage  on  a  large  amount  of 
Shakespearean  and  other  criticism  which  rests  on  the  same 
basis.      For  instance,  Mr.  Charles  Knight  uses  exactly  this 


224         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

kind  of  reasoning  to  prove  that  the  play  of  i  Henry  VI. 
was  written  by  Shakespeare,  and  not  by  Marlowe  or  any 
other  writer.  Nothing  can  be  more  convincing  than  this 
elaborate  argument.  Those  who  are  satisfied  by  it  may 
be  challenged  to  define  the  difference  between  his 
argument  and  ours.  The  usual  plan  is  to  break  up  the 
argument  into  fragments,  select  one  or  two  weak  or 
doubtful  cases, — and  smuggle  in  the  assumption  that  the 
whole  case  rests  upon  these,  and  is  defeated  by  their  over- 
throw. Nothing  can  be  more  grossly  unfair.  The  evidence 
derived  from  parallels  is  cun:iulative,  and  in  such  an 
argument  even  the  strongest  instance  may  be  spared,  and 
yet  the  weakest  may  possess  some  value  as  one  of  the 
gossamer  threads  which  contribute  to  the  construction  of 
a  cable  strong  enough  to  resist  the  most  violent  efforts  to 
break  it.  The  argument  is  not  like  a  chain  which  is  only 
as  strong  as  the  weakest  link  :  it  is  like  a  faggot,  the  mass 
of  which  cannot  be  broken,  though  every  single  stick  may 
be  brittle  ;  or  like  a  rope,  made  by  the  accumulation  of  a 
great  number  of  slender  fibres,  which  by  themselves  may 
be  easily  torn,  but  in  their  combination  can  resist  the 
greatest  force.  I  do  not  think  the  Calculus  has  yet  been 
invented  that  will  enable  us  to  cast  the  sum  of  an  indefinite 
series  of  small  arguments.  But  it  must  be  included  in  that 
branch  of  Inductive  Logic  which  deals  with  circumstantial 
evidence, — and  it  is  well  known  how  the  detective  import 
of  such  evidence  may  be  constituted  by  a  collection  of 
facts  each  of  which  singly  would  prove  nothing, — yet  each 
of  which  lends  some  atom  of  force  to  the  entire  mass — 
and  the  resultant  conclusion  may  be  as  well  sustained  as  if 
it  rested  on  direct  documentary  evidence  :  and  perhaps 
even  better.  For  documents  may  be  forged  or  fictitious, 
and  can  generally  be  disputed, — this  kind  of  circumstantial 
evidence  consists  of  incontrovertible  and  indestructible 
facts.  In  the  collection  of  parallels  which  I  have  to  offer 
I  wish  to  present  only  such  as  appear  to  me  strong — such 
as    in    other    cases   are    usually    accepted    as    marks    of 


DANGEROUS    SUCCESS.  225 

individuality  in  style  or  thought.  It  is  however  to  be 
remembered  that  any  estimate  of  strength  in  such  a  case  is 
a  matter  of  individual  impression,  and  I  must  therefore 
claim  that  those  who  criticize  separate  extracts  should  not 
neglect  the  value  belonging  to  the  entire  collection, — in- 
cluding not  only  those  now  presented,  but  those  already 
published  by  other  advocates  of  the  Baconian  theory. 
Moreover,  I  have  endeavoured  to  bring  forward  a  consider- 
able number  of  parallels  which  rest  on  a  deeper  basis  than 
verbal  coincidence,  and  relate  to  the  fixed  and  character- 
istic ideas  of  the  two  groups  of  writings.  Most  of  those 
here  given  have  not  been  previously  published  ;  or  only  in 
an  incomplete  way.  Some  however  have  appeared,  and  I 
wish  to  make  special  acknowledgment  to  Mr.  Donnelly  for 
the  collection  already  alluded  to  ;  and  to  Mrs,  Pott  for  the 
cases  included  in  her  annotations  to  the  Promiis.  I  have 
also  reproduced  some  parallels  which  have  been  before 
published  in  the  Bacon  Journal  and  Bacentana.  Others 
may  have  also  appeared  elsewhere,  for  in  such  a  quest  as 
this  the  same  discovery  may  be  made  over  and  over  again. 

I.  In  one  of  Bacon's  letters  to  Essex,  written  in  1599,  he 
makes  a  very  striking  remark  on  the  danger  attending  too 
much  success  in  public  service  : — 

"  Your  lordship  is  designed  to  a  service  of  great  merit 
and  great  peril ;  and  as  the  greatness  of  the  peril  must 
needs  include  a  like  proportion  of  merit,  so  the  greatness  of 
merit  may  include  no  small  consequence  of  peril,  if  it  be 
not  temperately  governed.  For  all  immoderate  success 
extinguish eth  merit,  and  stirreth  up  distaste  and  envy, — the 
assured  forerunners  of  whole  charges  of  peril."  ("Life" 
II.  129). 

The  same  idea  is  most  eloquently  expressed  more  than 
once  in  Shakespeare.  Ventidius,  a  lieutenant  of  Antony's, 
coming  back  in  triumph  after  a  victory,  speaks  : — 

O  Silius,  Silius, 
I  have  done  enough  :   a  lower  place,  note  well, 
May  make  too  great  an  act ;  for  learn  this,  Silius, 

Q 


226         SHAKESPEARE     STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Better  to  leave  undone,  than  by  our  deed 

Acquire  too  high  a  fame,  when  him  we  serve's  away. 

Caesar  and  Antony  have  ever  won 

More  in  their  oiftcer  than  person  :    Sossius, 

One  of  my  place  in  Syria,  his  lieutenant, 

For  quick  accumulation  of  renown, 

Which  he  achieved  by  the  minute,  lost  his  favour. 

Who  does  i'  the  wars  more  than  his  captain  can, 

Becomes  his  captain's  captain  :  and  ambition. 

The  soldier's  virtue,  rather  makes  choice  of  loss 

Than  gain  which  darkens  him. 

I  could  do  more  to  do  Antonius  good, 

But  'twould  offend  him,  and  in  his  offence, 

Sliould  my  performance  perish. 

{Ant.  CI.  III.  i.  II). 

The  same  rule  of  action  is  recognised  by  Coriolanus, 
whose  "  insolence  can  brook  to  be  commanded  under 
Cominius."     The  explanation  is, — 

Fame,  at  wliicli  he  aims. 

In  whom  already  he's  well  graced,  cannot 

Better  be  held,  nor  more  attain'd,  than  by 

A  place  below  the  first ;  for  what  miscarries 

Shall  be  the  general's  fault,  though  he  perform 

To  the  utmost  of  a  man,  and  giddy  censure 

Will  then  cry  out  of  Marcius,  "  O,  if  he 

Had  borne  the  business  !" 

{Cor.  I.  i.  267). 

Lewis  Theobald  very  aptly  quotes  the  following  from 
Quintus  Curtius,  as  a  possible  derivation  of  this  idea.  It 
refers  to  the  relations  between  Antipater  and  Alexander 
the  Great.  "Et  quanquam  Fortuna  rerum  placebat, 
invidiam  tamen,  quia  majores  res  erunt,  quam  quas 
Prsefecti  modus  caperet,  metuebat.  Quippe  Alexander 
hostes  vinci  voluerat :  Antipatrum  vicisse  ne  tacitus 
quidem  indignabatur,  su£e  demptum  glorise  existimans, 
quicquid  cessisset  alienas.  Itaque  Antipater,  qui  prope 
nosset  spiritus  ejus,  non  est  ausus  ipse  agere  arbitria 
victorias."     ("Quintis   Curtis"    I.   i.).     It   is   not  unlikely 


SMALL  FAULTS  IN  GREAT  PERSONS.        227 

that  the  poet  had  this  passage  in  his  mind  when  he  was 
writing  the  drama  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

2.  The  equivalent  to  the  motto  noblesse  oblige  appears  in 
Bacon's  Dc  Augmcntis  as  a  commentary  on  the  text  in 
Proverbs: — "As  dead  flies  do  cause  the  best  ointment  to 
stink,  so  does  a  little  folly  him  that  is  in  reputation  for 
wisdom  and  honour."  This  is  the  homily  derived  from 
the  proverb  : — 

"It  is  a  very  hard  and  unhappy  condition  (as  the 
proverb  well  remarks)  of  men  pre-eminent  for  virtue,  that 
their  errors,  be  they  never  so  trifling,  are  never  excused. 
But,  as  in  the  clearest  diamond,  every  little  cloud  or  speck 
catches  and  displeases  the  eye,  which  in  a  less  perfect 
stone  would  hardly  be  discerned,  so  in  men  of  remarkable 
virtue  the  slighest  faults  are  seen,  talked  of,  and  severely 
censured,  which  in  ordinary  men  would  either  be  entirely 
unobserved,  or  readily  excused.  Hence  a  little  folly  in  a 
very  wise  man,  a  very  small  offence  in  a  very  good  man,  a 
slight  impropriety  in  a  man  of  polite  and  elegant  manners, 
detracts  greatly  from  their  character  and  reputation  ;  and 
therefore,  it  would  be  no  bad  policy  for  eminent  men  to 
mingle  some  harmless  absurdities  with  their  actions,  so 
that  they  may  retain  some  liberty  for  themselves,  and 
make  small  defects  less  distinguishable."     (Works  V.  42). 

Obviously,  Bacon's  own  reputation  has  suffered  from 
this  cause.  The  same  subtle  observation  with  meta- 
phorical embellishments  is  repeated  in  reference  to  govern- 
ment. It  occurs  in  a  speech  addressed  to  the  Judges, 
1617 : — 

"  The  best  governments  be  always  like  the  fairest 
crystals,  wherein  every  little  icicle  or  grain  is  seen,  which 
in  a  fouler  stone  is  never  perceived."     ("  Life  "  VI.  213). 

And  again,  "  The  best  governments,  yea,  and  the  best 
men,  are  like  the  most  precious  stones,  wherein  every  flaw, 
or  icicle  or  grain  are  seen  and  noted  more  than  in  those 
that  are  generally  foul  and  corrupted."  (Reply  to  Speaker, 
J620.      "Life"  VII.  17S). 


228  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  sentiment  of  these  passages  is  somewhat  allied  to 
that  hinted  at  in  the  Promus  Note  (89) :  A  stone  without 
foyle.  Mrs.  Pott's  comments  on  this  and  cognate  notes^ 
and  the  Shakespearean  passages  cited  in  illustration,  are 
among  the  most  valuable  of  her  illustrations  of  the  Promus, 

It  is  important  to  remark  how  these  singularly  subtle 
and,  as  thus  expounded,  original  sentiments,  are  repro- 
duced in  Shakespeare.  The  impetuosity  of  the  brave  and 
generous  hearted  Hotspur  draws  the  following  rebuke  from 
Mortimer : — 

You  must  needs  learn,  lord,  to  amend  this  fault  : 

Though  sometimes  it  show  greatness,  courage,  blood, — 

And  that's  the  dearest  grace  it  renders  vou, — 

Yet  oftentimes  it  doth  present  harsli  rage, 

Defect  of  manners,  want  of  government, 

Pride,  haughtiness,  opinion  and  disdain. 

The  least  of  which  haunting  a  nobleman 

Loseth  men's  hearts,  and  leaves  behind  a  stain 

Upon  the  beauty  of  all  parts  besides. 

Beguiling  them  of  commendation. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  III.  i.  180). 

Still  more  accurately  is  Bacon's  homily  reflected  in 
Hamlet : — 

So  oft  it  chances  in  particular  men, 

That  for  some  vicious  mole  of  nature  in  them. 

As,  in  their  birth, — wherein  they  are  not  guilty, 

Since  Nature  cannot  choose  his  origin, — 

By  the  o'ergrowth  of  some  complexion 

Oft  breaking  down  the  pales  and  forts  of  reason  ; 

Or  bv  some  habit  that  too  much  o'erleavens 

The  form  of  plausive  manners  ;   that  these  men. 

Carrying,  I  say,  the  stamp  of  one  defect, 

Seeing  Nature's  livery,  or  fortune's  star. 

Their  virtues  else, — be  they  as  pure  as  grace. 

As  infinite  as  man  may  undergo, — 

Shall  in  the  general  censure  take  corruption 

From  that  particular  fault ;  this  dram  (?  grain)  of  evil 

Doth  all  the  noble  substance  often  dout. 

To  his  own  scandal. 

{Ham.  I.  iv.  17). 


THE   MAGNANIMOUS   LION.  229 

This  passage  is  connected  in  a  very  interesting  style, 
with  another  passage  in  the  "Advancement,"  by  Colonel 
Moore.     See  "Bacon  Journal"  I.  177. 

3.  In  one  of  the  Meditationes  Sacrce, — on  Charity, — 
Bacon  refers  to  the  different  degrees  of  charity  :  "  The  first 
is  to  forgive  our  enemies  when  they  repent  :  and  of  this 
there  is  found  even  among  the  more  generous  kind  of 
wild  beasts  some  shadow  or  image :  for  lions  are  said  to  be 
no  longer  savage  towards  those  who  yield  and  prostrate 
themselves."     (Works  VII.  245). 

In  Bacon's  speech  at  the  trial  of  Lord  Sanquahar  for  a 
very  revengeful  murder,  the  relenting  lion  is  brought 
forward.  "  Generous  and  magnanimous  spirits  are  readiest 
to  forgive,  and  it  is  a  weakness  and  im.potency  of  mind  to 
be  unable  to  forgive.  Corpora  magnanimo  satis  est 
prostrasse  leonem."  ("  Life"  IV.  291).  The  Latin  line  is 
from  Ovid's  "Tristia"  III.  v.  33. 

Shakespeare's  pictures  of  this  type  of  charity  are 
absolutely  the  same  : — 

Thus  dost  thou  hear  the  Nenicean  Hon  roar 

'Gainst  thee,  thou  lamb,  that  standest  as  his  prey. 

Submissive  fall  his  princely  feet  before, 

And  he  from  forage  will  incline  to  play. 

But  if  thou  strive,  poor  soul,  what  art  thou  then  ? 

Food  for  his  rage,  repasture  for  his  den. 

(L.  L.  L.  IV.  i.  90). 

Troiliis. — Brother,  you  have  a  vice  of  mercy  in  you 
Which  better  lits  a  lion  than  a  man. 

Hector.— What  vice  is  that,  good  Troilus  ?     Chide  me  for  it. 

Troihis. — When  many  times  the  captive  Grecian  falls 
Even  in  the  fan  and  wind  of  your  fair  sword, 
You  bid  them  rise  and  live.  {Tro.  Cr.  V.  iii.  37). 

Henry  VI.  thinks  his  gentle  treatment  of  his  foes — his 
pity,  mildness,  mercy,  forgiveness,  —  will  make  them 
relent : — 

These  graces  challenge  grace, 
And  when  the  lion  fawns  upon  the  lamb. 


230  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  lamb  will  never  cease  to  follow  hiiii. 

(3  Hen.  17.  IV.  viii.  48— 50). 

No  beast  so  fierce  but  knows  some  touch  of  pity? 

{Rich.  in.  I.  ii.  71). 

Her  life  was  beast-like  and  devoid  of  pity. 

(77/.  A.  V.  iii.  199). 

As  the  grim  lion  fawneth  o'er  his  prey. 

[Litcrccc,  421). 

4.  One  of  Bacon's  charges  against  Aristotle  is  that 
"  after  the  Ottoman  fashion,  he  thought  he  could  not 
reign  in  safety  unless  he  put  all  his  brethren  to  death." 
{De  Aug.  III.  iv).  "  The  philosophy  of  Aristotle,  after 
having  by  hostile  confutations  destroyed  all  the  rest  (as  the 
Ottomans  serve  their  brothers)  has  laid  down  the  law  on 
all  points."  [Nov.  Org.  I.  67).  He  speaks  of  the  "battles 
and  contests  "  (pugnas  et  dimicationes)  of  Aristotle,  who, 
after  the  Ottoman  fashion  felt  insecure  in  his  own  Kingdom 
of  Philosophy  till  he  had  slain  his  brethren."     (Works  V. 

463). 

Bacon  nowhere,   I   believe,   names   the    Ottoman  ruler 

Amurath,   who  thus  inaugurated    his  reign  by  fratricide. 

But  Shakespeare,  when  he  makes  the  same  allusion  gives 

the  name.     When  Henry  V.   ascended  the  throne,  seeing 

alarm  pictured  on  the  face  of  his  nobles  and  brothers,  he 

says,— 

Brothers,  you  mix  your  sadness  with  some  fear ; 
This  is  the  English,  not  the  Turkisli  Court ; 
Not  Amurath  an  Amurath  succeeds, 
But  Harry,  Harry.  (2  Hen.  IV.  V.  ii.  46). 

Bacon's  reference  to  the  pugnas  et  dimicationes  of 
Aristotle  is  probably  reflected  in  the  words  : — 

Let's  be  no  stoics  nor  no  stocks,  I  pray ; 
Or  so  devout  to  Aristotle's  checks 
As  Ovid  be  an  outcast  quite  abjured. 

(Tain.  S.  I.  i.  31J. 

>  There  is  a  class  of  men  whom  Bacon  calls  "  troublers 


ENAMELLED    DANGER.  23I 

of  the  world."  "That  gigantic  state  of  mind  which 
possesseth  the  troublers  of  the  world,  .  .  .  who  would 
have  all  men  happy  or  unhappy  as  they  were  their  friends 
or  enemies  and  would  give  form  to  the  world  according  to 
their  own  humours."  {De  Atcg.  VII.  2  ;  Works  V.  12). 
"  The  French  King  troubles  the  Christian  world."  {Hen. 
VII.     Works  VI.  118).     AlsoS:v/.  Syl.  1000. 

The  same  phrase,  with  much  the  same  technical  mean- 
ing is  found  in  Shakespeare.  Queen  Margaret  in  her  in- 
vective against  Richard  III.  calls  him,  "The  troublerof  the 
poor  world's  peace."  {Rich.  III.  I.  iii.  221).  Mariana, 
finding  her  self-revealing  is  so  affecting  Pericles  as  to  make 
his  comfort  but  the  reflection  of  her  story — making  him 
happ,-  or  not,  according  to  her  humours,  says  : — 

But  not  to  be  a  troubler  of  your  peace, 
I  will  end  here. 

{Pericles  V.  i.  153). 

6.  In  a  very  early  State  paper  of  Bacon's,  dating  about 
the  end  of  the  year  1584,  and  which  was  not  published  in 
any  form  till  1651,  quite  a  cluster  of  Shakespearean  phrases 
is  to  be  found.  It  is  a  paper  of  advice  to  the  Queen,  with 
reference  to  her  treatment  of  the  Papists.  Bacon  advises 
that  they  should  be  discouraged  and  enfeebled  rather  than 
actively  persecuted.  "To  suffer  them  to  be  strong  in  the 
hope  that  they  will  be  contented  with  reasonable  con- 
cessions, carries  with  it  but  the  fair  enamelling  of  a  terrible 
danger."  To  leave  them  half  content,  half  discontent, 
worried  and  irritated  by  petty  annoyances,  "carries  with  it 
an  equally  deceitful  shadow  of  reason  ;  for  no  man  loves 
one  the  better  for  giving  him  a  bastinado  with  a  Httle 
cudgell."  The  "fair  enamel"  covering  danger,  means 
more  than  Bacon  himself  in  these  words  expressed.  The 
latent  metaphor  is  disclosed  in  two  or  three  passages  of 
Shakespeare.  Bacon  had  in  his  mind  the  metallic  lustre  of 
a  deadly  snake — he  might  have  worked  up  into  his  State 
paper  the  following  lines  : — 

And  there  tlie  snake  tlirows  her  enamell'd  skin, 


232  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Weed  wide  enough  to  wrap  a  fairy  in. 

01/.  iV.  D.  II.  i.  255). 

As  the  snake,  roU'd  in  a  flowering  bank, 

With  shining  checker'd  slough  doth  sting  a  child, 

That  for  the  beauty  thinks  it  excellent. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  228). 

I  fear  me  you  but  warm  the  starved  snake 

Who,  cherished  in  your  breasts,  will  sting  your  hearts. 

{lb-  343). 
The    bastinado    with   a   cudgell    brings    to    mind    the 
energetic  language  of  Philip,   the   Bastard,  in  John;  re- 
ferring to  the  citizen  who  speaks  for  Angiers  :  — 

He  gives  the  bastinado  with  his  tongue, 
Our  ears  are  cudgelled  :  not  a  word  of  his 
But  buffets  better  than  a  fist  of  France. 

(Jo//;/  II.  i.  463). 

From  the  passage  in  Bacon's  prose  we  find  that  as  early 
as  the  year  1584  he  had  become  accustomed  to  think  of  hard 
words  as  comparable  to  hard  blows — that  the  bastinado 
may  be  wielded  by  the  tongue  as  well  as  by  the  hand. 
This  same  idea  kept  lasting  hold  on  his  mind,  and  re- 
appears in  many  well-known  Shakespearean  passages. 
Thus : — 

Brutus. — Words  before  blows :   is  it  so,  countrymen  ? 
Octaviits. — Not  that  we  love  words  better,  as  you  do. 
Brutus. — Good  words  are  better  tlian  bad  strokes,  Octavius. 
Antony. — In  your  bad  strokes,  Brutus,  you  give  good  words. 

Witness  the  hole  you  made  in  Caesar's  heart, 

Crying,  "  Long  live  !  liail  Cnssar  ! " 

Cassius. —  Antony, 

The  posture  of  your  blows  are  yet  unknown. 

{Jul.  Ccvs.  V.  i.  27). 

Forbear  sharp  speeches  to  her  :  she's  a  lady 
So  tender  of  rebukes,  that  words  are  strokes. 
And  strokes  deatli  to  her.  {Cyinb.  III.  v.  39). 

7.  Among  other  "deficients"  in  science  which  Bacon 
noted,  when,  in  the  De  Atignientis,  he  was  making  a  map  of 


SPITTING    OUT   THE   TONGUE.  233 

the  territories  already  discovered,  and  pointing  out  those 
yet  to  be  cleared,  he  suggested  that  a  collection  should  be 
made  of  "  what  schoolmen  term  the  ultimities,  and  Pindar 
the  tops  or  summits  of  human  nature  ;  "  specimens,  that  is, 
of  highest  attainment  in  the  several  departments  of  human 
culture,  action,  or  endurance.  The  following  is  a  specimen 
of  the  sort  of  instances  which  he  had  in  mind  : — "Wha*. 
a  proof  of  patience  is  displayed  in  the  story  told  of 
Anaxarchus,  who,  when  questioned  under  torture,  bit  out 
his  own  tongue  (the  only  hope  of  information),  and  spat  it 
in  the  face  of  the  tyrant."  (Works  IV.  374).  The  story 
is  derived  from  Diogenes  Laertius  :  Bacon's  version  is 
taken  from  Pliny  or  Valerius  Maximus. 

Shakespeare  takes  the  same  action,  which  Bacon  gives 
as  a  top  instance  of  patience,  as  a  supreme  specimen  of 
heroic  and  courageous  defiance.  Bolingbroke  being 
invited  by  the  king  to  reconcile  himself  to  Mowbray,  and 
throw  away  the  gage  of  battle  which  he  had  picked  up, 
replies, — 

O  God,  defend  my  soul  from  such  deep  sin  ! 
Shall  I  seem  crest-fall'n  in  my  father's  sight  ? 
Or  with  pale  beggar-fear  impeach  ni}-  height 
Before  this  out-dared  dastard  ?     Ere  my  tongue 
Shall  wound  my  honour  with  such  feeble  wrong, 
Or  sound  so  base  a  parle,  my  teeth  shall  tear 
The  slavish  motive  of  recanting  fear, 
And  spit  it  bleeding  in  his  high  disgrace. 
Where  shame  doth  harbour,  even  in  Mowbray's  face. 

{Rich.  II.  I.  i.  187). 

It  is  not  very  likely  that  William  Shakspere  had  read 
any  of  the  classic  authors  from  which  this  story  might  be 
derived.  We  cannot  suppose  that  Pliny,  Valerius  Maximus, 
or  Diogenes  Laertius  were  school  books  at  Stratford-on- 
Avon.     If  Bolingbroke's  defiance  had  taken  the  form  : — 

I'll  bite  my  tongue  out,  ere  I  use  it  thus, 

it  might  have  been  regarded  as  n  casual  coincidence.     But 


234         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

when  he  also  threatens  to  spit  it  in  the  face  of  his  enemy, 
we  cannot  explain  it  by  a  clause  in  the  chapter  of  accidents. 
We  find  also  that  Shakespeare  uses  the  word  top  in  the 
same  technical  sense  as  Bacon — to  express  the  ne  plus  ultra 
of  achievement  or  quality.     The  following  are  instances: — 

Admired  Miranda  ! 

Indeed  the  top  of  admiration  !  worth 

What's  dearest  to  the  world. 

{Temp.  III.  i.  37). 

Salisburj^  seeing  the  dead  body  of  Prince  Arthur,  sup- 
posed to  be  murdered,  exclaims: — 

This  is  tlie  very  top 
The  height,  the  crest,  or  crest  unto  the  crest 
Of  murder's  arms.  {John  IV.  iii.  45). 

and  other  superlative  phrases  are  added, 

How  would  you  be, 

If  He,  which  is  tlie  top  of  judgment,  should 

But  judge  you  as  you  are  ? 

{Mens,  for  Mcas.  II.  ii.  75). 

And  wilt  thou  still  be  hammering  treachery 
To  tumble  down  thy  husband  and  thyself 
From  top  of  honour  to  disgrace's  feet  ? 

(2  Hen.  F/.  I.ii.47). 

Not  in  the  legions 
Of  horrid  hell  can  come  a  devil  more  damn'd 
In  evils  to  top  Macbeth.  {Macb.    IV.  iii.  55). 

The  merits  of  Coriolanus  rest  on  actions, — 

Which,  to  the  spire  and  top  of  praises  vouch'd 

Would  seeni  but  modest. 

{Cor.  I.  ix.  24). 

8.  The  fable  of  the  basilisk  is  occasionally  to  be  met 
with  in  other  Elizabethan  poets  besides  Shakespeare.  But 
the  resemblance  between  Bacon's  method  of  applying  it  and 
Shakespeare's  is  so  striking  that  it  is  deserving  of  accurate 
record.      The   cocatrice   is   another   name   for   the    same 


BASILISK   OR    COCATRICE.  235 

fabulous  creature.  Bacon  uses  it  to  enforce  his  character- 
istic maxim,  that  good  men  ought  to  understand  evil  as 
well  as  good,  and  sound  all  the  depths  of  Satan.  "For, 
as  the  fable  goeth  of  the  basilisk,  that  if  he  see  you  first 
you  die  for  it ;  but  if  you  see  him  first,  he  dieth  ;  so  it  is 
with  deceits  and  evil  arts,  which  if  they  be  first  espied, 
they  leese  their  life ;  but  if  they  prevent,  they  endanger. 
{Adv.  L.  II.  xxi.  g).  The  same  legend  is  very  skilfully 
applied  to  Perkin  Warbeck  :  "This  was  the  end  of  this 
little  cocatrice  of  a  King,  that  was  able  to  destroy  those 
that  did  not  espy  him  first.  ("Hist,  of  Hen.  VII." 
Works  VI.  203).  The  same  fable  is  also  alluded  to  in  the 
Syl.  Syl.  924.  The  metaphorical  use  of  the  fable  is 
frequent  in  Shakespeare. 

We  are  now  glad  to  behold  3'our  e3'es : — 

Your  e3'es,  which  hitherto  have  borne  in  them 

Against  the  French,  that  met  them  in  their  bent, 

The  fatal  balls  of  murdering  basilisks. 

The  venom  of  such  looks,  we  fairly  hope, 

Have  lost  their  quality. 

{Hen.  V.  V.  ii.  14"). 

The  mood  of  one  who  could  not  pass  by  a  jest, — a 
characteristic,  according  to  Ben  Jonson,  of  Bacon, — is  seen 
in  the  multitudinous  punning  of  these  lines.  For  a  certain 
kind  of  cannon  was  called  a  basilisk, — and  the  "fatal 
balls"  may  mean  either  cannon  balls  or  eyeballs,  according 
to  the  double  entendre  of  the  word  Basilisk. 

Look  not  upon  me,  for  thine  eyes  are  wounding ; 
Yet  do  not  go  away  :  come,  basilisk. 
And  kill  the  innocent  gazer  with  thy  sight. 

{2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  51). 

Observe  the  gazer  is  innocent,  that  is,  he  does  not  espy  in 
any  protective  way. 

I'll  slay  more  gazers  than  the  basilisk. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  187). 

Thine  eyes,  sweet  lady,  have  infected  mine. 


236  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

[Reply.]      Would  they  were  basilisks  to  strike  thee  dead  ! 

{Rkii.  in.  I.  ii.  150). 

Here  Bacon's  theory  of  the  power  to  fascinate  by  glances 
of  the  eye,  referred  to  in  a  former  discussion  (chap,  x., 
§  14),  is  also  referred  to. 

O  my  accursed  womb,  the  bed  of  death  ! 

A  cocatrice  hast  thou  hatch'd  to  the  world, 

Whose  unavoided  eye  is  murderous. 

(76.  IV.  i.  54). 

This  will  so  fright  them  both,  that  they  will  kill  one  another  by 
the  look,  like  cocatrices. — Tivdftli  Niglil  III.  iv.  213. 

It  is  a  basilisk  unto  mine  eye, 

Kills  me  to  look  on't. 

(Cymb.  II.  iv.  107). 

Make  me  not  sighted  like  the  basilisk  ; 

I  have  look'd  on  thousands,  who  have  sped  the  better 

By  my  regard,  but  kill'd  none  so. 

{Winter's  Talc  I.  ii.  388). 

Hath  Romeo  slain  himself?     Say  thou  but  Aye, 
And  that  bare  vowel  /  shall  poison  more 
Than  the  death  darting  Eye  of  Cocatrice. 

(Rom.  Jul.  III.  ii.  45). 

Again  the  irresponsible  punster  is  manifest.  Again  we 
observe  that  Bacon  never  could  pass  by  a  joke. 

Here  with  a  cocatric'  dead-killing  eye 

He  rouseth  up  himself.  {Litcrccc  540). 

[Also,  see  2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  321-4]. 

g.  Bacon  in  several  places  expresses  his  opinion  that  the 
stars  are  true  fires  :  "The  fire  of  the  stars  is  pure,  perfect 
and  native.  ...  In  heaven  fire  exists  in  its  true  place, 
removed  from  the  assault  of  any  contrary  body,  constant, 
sustained  by  itself  and  things  hke  itself  .  .  .  fiame  with 
us  is  pyramidal,  and  in  the  heaven,  globular."  (Works  V. 
538.  476,  533,  550).  "The  celestial  bodies,  most  of  them, 
are  true  fires  or  flames,  as  the  Stoics  held  ;  more  fine, 
perhaps,  and  rareified  than  our  flame  is."     {Syl.  Syl.   31). 


THE    STARS    ARE    FIRES.  237 

The  same  opinion  concerning  stars  is  not  infrequent  in 
Shakespeare.  Coriolanus  threatens  his  pusillanimous 
countrymen, — 

By  the  fires  of  heaven,  TU  leave  the  foe, 

And  make  1113'  wars  on  you. 

[Cor.  I.  iv.  39). 

When  Macbeth  is  contemplating  murder,  he  exclaims  : — 

Stars  !  hide  your  fires. — Mach.  I.  iv.  50. 

Julius  Caesar  claims  kindred  with  the  stars  : — 

The  skies  are  painted  with  unnumber'd  sparks, 
They  are  all  fire,  and  every  one  doth  shine. 

{■fill.  Cd's.  III.  i.  63). 

Hamlet  makes  the  same  allusion  : — 

Doubt  thou  the  stars  are  fire. — Ham.  II.  ii.  116. 

This  most  e.xcellent  canopy,  the  air,  this  brave  o'erhanging 
firmament,  this  majestical  rooffretted  with  golden  fire. — 7^.  311. 

Gloucester,  seeing  Lear  in  the  storm,  exclaims  : — 

The  sea,  with  such  a  storm  as  his  bare  head. 

In  hell-black  night  endured,  woul'd  have  buoy'd  up 

And  quench'd  the  stelled  fires. 

(Lear  III.  vii.  58). 

And  Antony,  bewailing  his  defeat  moans  : — 

My  good  stars,  that  were  my  former  guides 

Have  empty  left  their  orbs,  and  shot  their  fires 

Into  the  abysm  of  hell. 

(Ant.  Cko.  III.  xi.  145). 

10.  Bacon's  references  to  quicksilver  are  very  curious. 
Among  the  motions,  or  active  virtues  of  bodies,  is — 
'*  Motion  of  Flight  "  by  which  bodies  "  from  antipathy  flee 
from  and  put  to  flight  hostile  bodies,  and  separate  them- 
selves from  them,  or  refuse  to  mingle  with  them.  .  .  . 
Quicksilver  is  kept  from  uniting  into  an  entire  mass  by 
lard,  &c.,  owing  to  their  desire  to  fly  from  these  inter- 
vening bodies.     .     .     .     Motion  of  Flight  is  conspicuous 


238  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

in  gunpowder,  quicksilver,  and  gold."  {Nov.  Org.  II.  48). 
"  Quicksilver  contains  a  flatulent  and  expansive  spirit." 
(Works  V.  ig6).  The  power  of  motion  is  seen  in  quick- 
silver, "the  force  whereof,  if  it  be  vexed  by  fire,  and 
prevented  from  escaping,  is  not  much  less  than  that  of 
gunpowder."     {lb.  437). 

Now  it  is  very  remarkable  that  Bacon's  curious  scientific 
notions  about  quicksilver  are  clearly  reflected  in  the  only 
two  passages  in  Shakespeare  where  it  is  referred  to.  In 
2  Hen.  IV.  it  is  used  to  illustrate  a  motion  of  flight : — "  A 
rascal,  bragging  slave  !  the  rogue  fled  from  me  like  quick- 
silver."    (2  Hen  IV.  II.  iv.  247). 

In  Hamlet  it  refers  to  a  motion  of  antipathy  producing 
an  effect  like  the  "  mortification "  of  quicksilver.  The 
ghost  is  describing  the  mode  in  which  he  was  murdered  by 
the  juice  of  cursed  hebenon  : — 

Whose  effect 
Holds  such  an  enmity  with  blood  of  man, 
That  swift  as  quicksilver  it  courses  through 
The  natural  gates  and  alleys  of  the  body, 
And  with  a  sudden  vigour  it  doth  posset 
And  curd,  like  eager  droppings  into  milk, 
The  thin  and  wholesome  blood. 

{Ham.  I.  V.  64). 

Bacon  also  uses  the  same  metaphor  to  describe  the  flight 
of  Perkin  Warbeck.  "It  was  not  long  but  Perkin,  who 
was  made  of  quicksilver,  which  is  hard  to  imprison,  began 
to  stir.  For,  deceiving  his  keepers,  he  took  to  his  heels 
and  made  speed  to  the  sea  coast."  ("Henry  VII." 
Works  VI.  20).     Here  is  a  Motion  of  Flight. 

II.  Bacon  seems  to  have  studied  the  effect  of  poisons,  as 
part  of  his  medical  and  physiological  observations.  One  of 
his  most  characteristic  observations  is  that  poisons  often 
cause  swelling,  and  in  this  respect  they  resemble  certain 
conditions  of  the  mind  which  also  cause  swelling,  either 
physical  or  psychical. 

As  to  poison  : — "  It    is  accounted  an   evident   sign   of 


SWELLING    AND   VENOM.  239 

poison  (especially  of  that  kind  which  operates  by  malig- 
nancy, not  by  corrosion),  if  the  face  or  body  be  swollen." 
(Works  V.  358).  As  to  anger  and  pride: — "A  sudden 
burst  of  anger  in  some  inflates  the  cheeks  :  as  likewise  does 
pride."  "  Turke}'  cocks  swell  greatly  when  angry."  {lb. 
358-g).  Bacon  speaks  of  "the  swelling  pride  and  usurpa- 
tion of  the  See  of  Rome."  ("Life"  V.  5).  He  advises 
Cecil  a  course  to  secure  "  honour  ard  merit  of  her  Majesty 
without  ventosity  {i.e.  the  swelling  of  pride  or  ambition) 
or  popularity."  ("  Life"  IIL  45).  And  as  to  knowledge, 
he  remarks  that  "it  is  not  the  proportion  or  quantity  of 
knowledge,  how  large  soever,  that  can  make  the  mind  of 
man  to  swell  ;  but  it  is  merely  the  quality  of  knowledge 
which,  be  it  in  quantity  more  or  less,  if  it  be  taken  without 
the  true  corrective  thereof,  hath  in  it  some  nature  of  venom 
or  malignity,  and  some  effects  of  that  venom,  which  is 
ventosity  or  swelling.     {Adv.  L.  I.  i.  3). 

All  this  is  repeatedly  reflected  in  Shakespeare.     Ex.  gr. 
Anger  or  spleen  : — 

By  the  gods 

You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen, 

Though  it  do  split  you. 

{Jul  Ccvs.  IV.  iii.  46). 

My  higli-bloicn  pride. 

{Hen.  VIII.  III.  ii.  361). 

The  broken  rancour  of  your  IiigJi-sicofn  hearts. 

(A'/c7/. ///.  Il.ii.  117). 

Czesar's  ambition  which  sicetled  so  much. 

{Cynib.  III.  i.  49). 

Blown  ambition. 

(Lear  IV.  iv.  27). 

I  have  seen  th'  ambitious  ocean  swell  and  rage. 

iyul.  Ca^s.  I.  iii.  6). 

Swell  in  their  pride. 

{Lucrece  432). 

Othello,  in  his  anger  and  hatred,  and  hunger  for  revenge, 
says : — 


240         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Swell,  bosom,  with  thy  fraught ; 

For  'tis  of  aspics'  tongues  / 

{Olh.  III.  iii.  449). 

12.  Another  of  Bacon's  physiological  metaphors  is  shown 
in  the  following  passage  from  his  Essay  of  "  Seditions  "  : — 
"  He  that  turneth  the  humours  back  and  maketh  the  wound 
bleed  inwards  endangereth  malign  ulcers  and  pernicious 
imposthumations. "  This  refers  to  that  mode  of  preventing 
seditious  rising  which  consists  in  '''giving  moderate  liberty 
for  griefs  and  discontentments  to  evaporate,"  The  same 
sentiment  is  expressed  in  a  speech  in  Parliament  (1810). 
"Take  away  liberty  of  Parliament,  the  griefs  of  the  subject 
will  bleed  inwards.  Sharp  and  eager  humours  will  not 
evaporate,  and  then  they  must  exulcerate,  and  so  may 
endanger  the  sovereignty  itself."  ("  Life  "  IV.  177).  And 
again:  "These  things  mought  be  dissembled,  and  so 
things  left  to  bleed  inwards."  (''Life"  V.  45).  And 
describing  a  condition  of  stifled  discontent  in  Henry  VH. 's 
reign,  he  says  that  the  methods  of  repression  "  made  the 
King  rather  more  absolute,  than  more  safe.  For  bleeding 
inwards  and  shut  vapours  strangle  soonest  and  oppress 
most."     (Works  VL  153). 

So  Henry  IV.,  lamenting  over  the  wild  conduct  of  his 
son,  says  : — 

The  blood  weeps  from  my  lieart  when  I  do  shape 
In  forms  imaginary,  the  unguided  days 
And  rotten  times  that  you  shall  look  upon 
When  I  am  sleeping  with  my  ancestors.  * 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iv.  58). 

and  the  Prince  in  his  turn  says  : — 

"  My  heart  bleeds  inwardly  that  my  fatiier  is  so  sick  ;  and  keeping 
such  vile  company  as  thou  art  hath  in  reason  taken  from  me  all 
ostentation  of  sorrow."     {lb.  II.  ii.  51). 

Timon's  servant  says  : 

I  bleed  inwardly  for  my  Lord. 

{Tim.  A.  I.  ii.  211). 


WOUNDS   SEARCHED.  24I 

And  still  more  distinctly  is  the  metaphor  employed  by 
Hamlet : — 

This  is  the  imposthume  of  much  wealth  and  peace 

That  inward  breaks,  and  shows  no  cause  without 

Why  the  man  dies. 

{Ham.  IV.  iv.  27). 

13.  To  this  class  of  parallels  the  following  also  may  be 
referred.  Bacon  in  his  subsidy  speech  (A.D.  1593)  says  : — 
"  We  are  here  to  search  the  wounds  of  the  realm,  and  not 
to  skin  them  over. "  ("Life"  I.  223).  In  the  observations 
on  a  Libel,  he  uses  the  expression  :  "  Having  lately  with 
much  difficulty  rather  smoothed  and  skinned  over  than 
healed  and  extinguished  the  commotion  of  Aragon." 
("  Life  "  L  163). 

The  3rd  of  the  Meditationes  Sacrcs  commences  with  the 
aphorism,  "  To  a  man  of  perverse  and  corrupt  judgment, 
all  instruction  or  persuasion  is  fruitless  and  contemptible 
which  begins  not  with  discovery  and  laying  open  of  the 
distemper  and  ill  complexion  of  the  mind  which  is  to  be 
recured,  as  a  plaster  is  unseasonably  applied  before  the 
wound  be  searched."     (Works  VH.  244). 

The  Shakespearean  echoes  of  these  passages  are 
perfect  : — 

It  will  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place, 

Whilst  rank  corruption,  mining  all  within, 

Infects  unseen. 

(Hani.  III.  iv.  147). 

Authority,  though  it  err  like  others. 

Hath  yet  a  kind  of  medicine  in  itself 

That  skins  the  vice  o'  the  top. 

{Mcas.  M.  II.  ii.  134). 

Now  to  tlic  bottom  dost  thou  search  ni}^  wound. 

{Tif.  A.U.  iii.  ?62). 

Alas,  poor  shepherd  !  searching  of  thy  wound 
I  have  by  hard  adventure  found  my  own. 

{As  You  Like  II  II.  iv.  44). 

The  truth  you  speak  doth  lack  some  gentleness, 

R 


242  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

And  time  to  speak  it  in  :  you  rub  the  <ove, 

When  you  should  bring  the  plaster. 

(Temp.  II.  i.  137). 

Poor  wounded  name  !     My  bosom,  as  a  bed, 

Shall  lodge  thee,  till  thy  wound  be  thoroughly  heal'd  ; 

And  thus  I  search  it  with  a  sovereign  kiss. 

{Two  Gent,  of  Vfi:  I.  ii.  114). 

14.  That  sweet  things  may  turn  sour  in  digestion  is  a 
physiological  fact  used  symbolically  by  Bacon.  In  a  letter 
to  Villiers  we  find  : — "For  as  his  Majesty  first  conceived, 
I  would  not  have  it  stay  in  his  stomach  too  long  lest  it 
sour  in  the  digestion."  ("  Life  "  V.  285).  Much  the  same 
thing  occurs  in  the  charge  against  Somerset.  "It  is  a 
principle  in  nature  that  the  best  things  are  in  their  corrup- 
tion the  worst,  and  the  sweetest  wine  makes  the  sharpest 
vinegar.  So  it  fell  out  with  them,  that  this  excess,  as  I 
may  term  it,  of  friendship,  ended  in  mortal  hatred." 
("Life"  V.  313).  In  the  Pronms,  there  are  two  notes, 
571  and  910,  on  the  "  Vinegar  of  sweet  wine." 

Shakespeare  appears  to  have  made  use  of  this  note 
several  times. 

A  surfeit  of  the  sweetest  things 

The  deepest  loathing  to  the  stomach  brings. 

(71/.  N.D.  II.  ii.  137). 

Things  sweet  to  taste  prove  in  digestion  sour. 

{Rich.  II.  I.  iii.  236). 

Mr.  Thomas  W.  White  (our  English  Homer),  p.  243, 
remarks  the  identical  use  in  Shakespeare  of  the  simile  used 
by  Bacon  in  his  Somerset  charge  : — 

Sweet  love,  I  see,  changing  his  property. 
Turns  to  the  sourest  and  most  deadh'  hate. 

{Rich.  II.  III.  ii.  135). 

The  sweetest  honey 
Is  loathsome  in  its  own  deliciousness, 
And  in  the  taste  confounds  the  appetite. 

(Rom.  J.  II.  vi.  11). 

The  sweets  we  wish  for  turn  to  loathed  sours, 


SWEETNESS    AND    SPEECH.  243 

Even  in  the  moment  that  \vc  call  them  ours. 

{Liicrccc  867). 

Sweetest  things  turn  sourest  by  their  deeds. 

(Son.  94). 

15.  Some  of  Bacon's  applications  of  the  epithet  swcd, 
are  worth  study.  It  is  applied  in  a  very  characteristic  way 
to  speech  and  sound.  Pleasant  words  spoken  in  the  morn- 
ing are  especially  sweet.  And  music,  or  musical  discourse 
is  sweeter  by  night  than  by  day.  These  characteristics  are 
formally  expressed — as  if  they  were  scientific  facts, — in  the 
following  passages.  In  the  Promus  there  is  a  note,  No. 
i,2ig,  which  runs  as  follows: — "Sweet  for  speech  of 
ye  morning,"  i.e.,  sivcct,  it  is  noted,  is  an  epithet  specially 
applicable  to  speech  in  the  morning.  In  the  Syl.  Syl.  235, 
we  read,  "Sounds  are  meliorated  by  the  intension  [i.e., 
intensification  or  concentration]  of  the  sense,  where  the 
common  sense  is  collected  most  to  the  particular  sense  of 
hearing,  and  the  sight  suspended  ;  and,  therefore,  sounds 
are  sweeter  as  well  as  greater  in  the  night  than  in  the  day  ; 
and  I  suppose  they  are  sweeter  to  blind  men  than  to 
others :  and  it  is  manifest,  that  between  sleeping  and 
waking,  when  all  the  senses  are  bound  and  suspended, 
music  is  far  sweeter  than  when  one  is  fully  waking."  (See 
also  Syl.  Syl.  143). 

Bacon  also  writes,  "Thus  did  the  French  ambassadors, 
with  great  show  of  their  king's  affection,  and  many 
sugared  words,  seek  to  addnlce  all  matters  between  the  two 
Kings."     ("Hen.  VH."     Works  VI.  109). 

It  is  remarkable  how  constantly  sweetness,  sugar  and 
honey,  are  applied  to  speech  in  Shakespeare.  For 
example : — 

Your  fair  discourse  hath  been  as  sugar 
Making  the  hard  way  sweet  and  delectable. 

{Rich.  II.  II.  iii.  6). 

^ly  woman's  heart 
Grossly  grew  captive  to  his  honey  words. 

{Rich.  III.  l\.\.  79). 


244  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

When  he  speaks, 
The  air,  a  chartcr'd  libertine,  is  still. 
And  the  mute  wonder  lurkcth  in  men's  cars 
To  steal  his  sweet  and  honeyed  sentences, 

{Hen.  V.  I.  i.  47). 

The  honey  of  his  language. 

{Hen.  VIII.  III.  ii.  22). 

Suck  the  honey  of  his  music  vows. 

{Haw.  III.  i.  164). 

The  sweetness  of  morning  speech  is  clearly  reflected  in 
the  Friar's  salutation  to  Romeo  : — 

What  early  tongue  so  sweet  saluteth  me  ? 

(Rom.  J.  II.  iii.  32). 

And  the  sweetness  of  the  sound  at  night, — 

How  silver-sweet  sound  lovers'  tongues  by  night. 

{Row.  y.  II.  ii.  166 

Here  will  we  sit  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears  :  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 

{Mer.  Ven.  V.  i.  55). 

16.  Other  scientific  ideas  which  Bacon  held  about  sound 
are  clearly  reflected  in  Shakespeare.  Thus  he  writes  in 
his  Natural  History  notes  : — 

"The  lower  winds  in  a    plain,  except  they  be  strong, 
make  no  noise  ;  but  amongst  trees  the  noise  of  such  winds, 
will  be  perceived."     {Syl.  Syl.  115). 

You  may  as  well  forbid  the  mountain  pines 
To  wag  their  high  tops,  and  to  make  no  noise, 
When  they  are  fretten  with  the  gusts  of  heaven. 

{Mer.  Ven.  IV.  i.  75). 

In  such  a  night  as  this, 

When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees, 

And  they  did  make  no  noise. 

{Mer.  Ven.  V.  i.  i). 

Observe  how  the  little  phrase,  "make  no  noise,"  always. 


KNOTS    IN    WOOD.  245 

refers  to  the  movement  of  wind  in  the  trees.       (See  the 
whole  o(  Syl.  Syl.  115). 

17.  A  very  accurate  reflection  of  Bacon's  idea  of  sound 
heard  in  the  night,  with  the  contrast  between  hearing  and 
seeing,  and  the  intensification  of  one  sense  by  the  suspen- 
sion of  another,  is  given  in  that  storehouse  of  Baconian 
thought,  the  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream.  (See  Syl.  Syl.  235, 
already  quoted,  15). 

Dark  night  that  from  the  eye  his  function  takes 
The  ear  mure  quick  of  apprehension  makes  ; 
Wherein  it  doth  impair  the  seeing  sense, 
It  pays  the  hearing  double  recompense. 

{M.X.D.  III.  ii.  177). 

18.  A  very  curious  correspondence  between  Bacon's 
idea^  about  knots  in  wood,  and  Shakespeare,  has  been 
pointed  out  to  me  by  my  cousin,  Mr.  William  Theobald. 
The  Shakespeare  passage  is  not  easily  understood  except 
by  the  light  of  the  Baconian  commentary. 

As  knots  by  the  conHux  of  meeting  sap 
Infect  the  sound  pine  and  divert  his  grain, 
Tortive  and  errant  trom  his  course  of  growth. 

{Tro.  Cr.  I.  iii.  7). 

Here  is  the  explanation  : — 

"  There  be  divers  herbs,  but  no  trees,  that  may  be  said  to 
have  some  kind  of  order  in  the  putting  forth  of  their 
leaves  ;  for  they  have  joints  or  knuckles  as  it  were,  stops  in 
their  germination.  The  cause  whereof  is  for  that  the  sap 
ascendeth  unequally,  and  doth  as  it  were  tire  and  stop  by 
the  way.  And  it  seemeth  they  have  some  closeness  and 
hardness  in  their  stalk,  which  hindereth  the  sap  from  going 
up,  until  it  hath  gathered  into  a  knot."     {Syl.  Syl.  589). 

Knots  in  wood.  Bacon  supposes  to  be  caused  by  some 
arrest  in  the  circulation  of  the  sap.  The  Shakespeare 
passage  shews  a  slight  variation  or  extension  of  the  theory 
given  in  the  Syl.  Syl.,  but  the  botanical  physiology  is  the 
same. 


246         SHAKESPEAR]-:    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

19.  Promus,  Note  No.  601,  is:  "He  that  pardons  his 
enemy  the  amner  shall  have  his  goods."  The  amner 
means  the  almoner,  the  official  administrator  of  charitable 
finances.  The  meaning  of  the  proverb,  therefore,  is  :  He 
that  gives  away  pardons  with  undiscriminating  charity, 
gives  away  himself  and  all  he  possesses, — all  his  goods  go  to 
the  distributor  of  alms.  This  aphorism  reappears  in  altered 
form  in  the  Antitheta  on  Cruelty.  {Dc  Aug.  VI.  iii..  No.  18). 
"  None  of  the  virtues  has  so  many  crimes  to  answer  for 
as  clemency."  "He  that  has  mercy  on  his  enemy  has 
none  on  himself."  It  is  also  found  more  amply  expounded 
in  the  discourse  on  scattered  occasions,  taken  from  the 
Proverbs.  [De  Aug.  VIII,  ii..  No.  14).  "  Solomon  wisely 
adds.  That  the  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel.  Such  is 
the  sparing  to  use  the  sword  of  justice  upon  wicked  and 
guilty  men  ;  which  kind  of  mercy  is  more  cruel  than 
cruelty  itself;  for  cruelty  is  only  practised  upon  individual 
persons,  but  this  mercy  to  crime,  by  granting  impunity, 
arms  and  let  loose  upon  the  innocent  the  whole  army  of 
villains."  Bacon  also  writes  in  similar  terms  to  Bucking- 
ham :  "Mercy  in  such  a  case,  in  a  King,  is  true  cruelty." 
("Life"  VI.  46). 

Although  this  is  not  a  very  profound  or  original  axiom, 
yet  is  worth  observation  how  often  and  how  exactly  it  is 
reproduced  in  Shakespeare. 


Let  the  traitor  die, 
For  sparing  justice  feeds  iniquity. 


(Lncrccc,  1686). 


Justice. —  Lord  Angelo  is  severe. 

Escaliis. —  It  is  but  needful 

Mercy  is  not  itself  that  oft  looks  so; 
Pardon  is  still  the  nurse  of  second  woe. 

{Mcas.  M.  IL  i.,  end). 

Forget  to  pity  him,  lest  thy  pity  prove 
A  serpent  that  will  sting  thee  to  the  heart  .  .  . 
Thou  kilFst  me  in  his  life  giving  liim  breath, 
The  traitor  lives,  the  true  man's  put  to  dcatli  .  .  . 


BASTARD    USURY.  247 

If  thou  do  pardon,  whosoever  pray, 
More  sins  for  this  forgiveness  prosper  may. 
This  fester'd  joint  cut  off,  the  rest  rest  sound: 
This  let  alone,  will  all  the  rest  confound  .  .  . 
Ill  may'st  thou  thrive,  if  thou  grant  any  grace. 

{Rich.  II.  V.  iii.  57 — 99). 

Mercy  but  murders,  pardoning  those  that  kill. 

{Rom.  Jul.  III.  i.,  last  line). 

'Tis  necessary  he  should  die: 
Nothing  emboldens  sin  so  much  as  mercy. 

{Ttmon  III.  v.  2). 

20.  Bacon's  views  on  usury  are  such  as  modern  political 
economy  does  not  endorse.  Lending  money  on  interest  was 
distasteful  to  him,  and  yet  he  admits  that  it  may  advance 
merchandising.  But  of  the  begetting  of  money  in  this 
way,  he  always  speaks  with  some  contempt :  The  Essay 
on  "Usury"  records  various  invectives  against  usury: 
"That  it  is  against  nature  for  money  to  beget  money,"  &c. 
In  the  history  of  Henry  VII.,  the  Chancellor,  Morton, 
speaking  to  Parliament  for  the  King,  tells  them  :  "  His 
Grace  prays  you  to  take  into  consideration  matter  of  trade 
.  .  .  and  to  repress  the  bastard  and  barren  employment  of 
moneys  to  usury  and  unlawful  exchanges  "  ("  Works  "  VI. 
p.  80),  and  as  a  result  of  this  counsel  Bacon  notes: 
"  There  were  also  made  good  and  politic  laws  that  Parlia- 
ment against  usury,  which  is  the  bastard  use  of  money, 
and  against  unlawful  chievances  and  exchanges,  which  is 
bastard  usury."     (76,  p.  87). 

In  Shakespeare  the  same  view  of  usury  as  money  unlaw- 
fully begotten  is  found.  The  word  use  sometimes  means 
usury,  as  in  the  following  : — 

Foul  cankering  rust  the  hidden  treasure  frets, 
But  gold  that's  put  to  use  more  gold  begets, 

{Veil.  Adou.  767). 

This,  however,  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  the  issue 
is  unlawful.  In  other  passages  this  opinion  is  expressed. 
Antonio  says  to  Shylock  :  — 


248  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

If  thou  wilt  lend  this  money,  lend  it  not 

As  to  thy  friends;  for  when  did  friendship  take 

A  breed  for  barren  metal  of  his  friend. 

[Mer.  Veil.  I.  iii.  133). 

Shylock  is  the  typical  usurer,  and  he  describes  Jacob's 
mode  of  gaining  his  profits  in  sheep-farming.  Antonio 
asks  : — 

Was  this  inserted  to  make  interest  good, 

Or  is  your  gold  and  silver  ewes  and  rams  ? 

Shy. — I  cannot  tell :  I  make  it  breed  as  fast. 

[lb.  95). 

In  Twelfth  Night  the  clown,  pointing  to  the  coin  which 
Viola  has  given  him,  says  : — 

Would  not  a  pair  of  these  have  bred,  sir  ? 
Vio. — Yes,  being  kept  together  and  put  to  use. 
CIo. — I  would  play  Lord  Pandarus  of   Phrygia,  sir,  to  bring  a 
Cressida  to  this  Troilus. 

iTwelfih  Night  III.  i.  54). 

Putting  all  these  passages  together,  Shakespeare's 
opinion  seems  to  be  much  the  same  as  Bacon's.  Usury 
revolts  him,  and  yet  its  necessity  must  be  conceded.  The 
same  uncertainty  of  view  is  seen  in  one  of  Bacon's  objec- 
tions against  usury — that  it  doth  dull  and  damp  all  indus- 
tries,"— and  yet  as  "the  greatest  part  of  trade  is  driven  by 
young  merchants  upon  borrowing  at  interest,"  so,  if  the 
rate  of  interest  is  moderate,  he  finds  that  this  use  of  money 
"  will  encourage  and  edge  industrious  and  profitable 
employments."  (Essay  on  "Usury.")  This  Essay  was 
not  published  till  1625,  When  Hamlet  was  written,  the 
poet  does  not  seem  to  have  advanced  quite  so  far.  He 
speaks  of  lending  money  in  the  same  terms, — the  edge  of 
trade  is  dulled  by  the  use  of  borrowed  capital;  accordingl}^ 
his  advice  is  : — 

Neither  a  borrower  nor  a  lender  be. 
For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend; 
And  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry. 

(Ham.  I.  iii.  75). 


SEEDS    OF   TIME.  249 

21.  There  is  in  Shakespeare  a  well-known  passage  on 
philosophical  foresight : — 

There  is  a  history  in  all  men's  lives 

Figuring  the  nature  of  the  times  deceased: 

The  which  observed,  a  man  may  prophesy, 

With  a  near  aim,  of  the  main  chance  of  things 

As  yet  not  come  to  life,  which  in  their  seeds 

And  weak  beginnings  lie  intreasured: 

Such  things  become  the  hatch  and  brood  of  time. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  III.  i.  80). 

The  very  singular  conjunction  of  "  seeds  and  beginnings" 
was  a  habitual  mode  of  speech  with  Bacon.  Writing  a 
paper  of  instructions  for  Sir  John  Digby,  then  proceeding 
to  Spain,  he  speaks  of  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from 
amity  with  Spain  :  "Also,  that  it  may  be  a  beginning  and 
seed  (for  the  like  actions  have  had  less  beginnings)  of  a  holy 
war  against  the  Turk."  (Works  VII.  4).  In  a  speech 
on  union  with  Scotland,  he  says,  "  Nay  more,  Mr, 
Speaker,  whosoever  shall  look  into  the  seminary  and  be- 
ginnings of  the  monarchies  of  the  world,  he  shall  find  them 
founded  in  poverty."  ("Life"  III.  324).  Dedicating  to 
the  King  his  Essay  on  the  true  greatness  of  Britain,  he 
says,  "  None  of  the  great  monarchies,  which,  in  the 
memory  of  times  have  risen  in  the  habitable  world,  had  so 
fair  seeds  and  beginnings,  as  hath  this  your  estate  and 
kingdom."     (Works  VII.  47). 

Much  the  same  sort  of  speech  is  found  in  Banquo's 
challenge  to  the  witches,— 

If  you  can  look  into  the  seeds  of  time, 

And  say  which  grain  will  grow  and  which  will  not, 

Speak  then  to  me. 

{Macb.  I.  Hi.  58). 

This  is,  perhaps,  a  reflection  of  the  axiom  that  Bacon  de- 
rived from  Aristotle,  "  That  the  nature  of  everything  is 
best  seen  in  his  smallest  portions."  ("Advancement"  II.  i. 
5;    Works  III.  332). 

22.  Bacon  seemed  to  look  upon  --var  as  a  kind  of  necessity 


250  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

for  a  State — as  exercise  is  for  an  individual.  In  1595  writ- 
ing for  Essex  to  Lord  Rutland,  he  says,  "  Politic  bodies 
are  like  our  natural  bodies,  and  must  as  well  have  some 
exercise  to  spend  their  humours,  as  to  be  kept  from  too 
violent  or  continual  outrages,  which  spend  their  best 
spirits."  ("Life"  IL  12).  And  the  Essay  on  the  "  True 
Greatness  of  Kingdoms"  puts  the  same  point  more  clearly. 
"No  body  can  be  healthful  without  exercise,  neither 
natural  body,  nor  politic  ;  and  certainly  to  a  kingdom 
or  estate,  a  just  and  honourable  war  is  the  true  exercise.  A 
civil  war  indeed  is  like  the  heat  of  a  fever,  but  a  foreign 
war  is  like  the  heat  of  exercise,  and  serveth  to  keep  the 
body  in  health.  For  in  a  slothful  peace,  both  courages 
will  effeminate  and  manners  corrupt." 

This  is  not  infrequently  reflected  in  Shakespeare  : — 

I  had  a  purpose  now 

To  lead  out  many  to  the  Holy  Land. 

Lest  rest  and  lying  still  might  make  tliem  look 

Too  near  into  my  state.     Therefore,  my  Harry, 

Be  it  thy  course  to  busy  giddy  minds 

With  foreign  quarrels,  that  action,  hence  borne  out, 

May  waste  the  memory  of  the  former  days. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  V.  210). 

The  King,  in  AWs   Well,  gives  permission  to  his  nobles 
to  act  as  volunteers  in  the  Tuscan  service  :  — 

It  well  may  serve 

A  nursery  to  our  gentry,  who  are  sick. 

For  breathing  and  exploit. 

{All's  Well  I.  ii.  15). 

Parolles  gives  a  somewhat  coarse  version  of  the  same 
sentiment  : — 

To  the  wars,  my  boy,  to  the  wars  ! 
He  wears  his  honour  in  a  box  unseen 
That  hugs  his  kicky-wicky  here  at  home, 
Spending  his  manly  marrow  in  her  arms. 
Which  sliould  sustain  the  bound  and  high  curvet 
Of  Mar's  fiery  steed.  {lb.  II.  iii.  296). 


MEDICINAL    USES    OF    WAR.  25I 

And  one  of  the  Florentine  lords  takes  the  same  view, — 
But  I  am  sure  the  younger  of  our  nature 
That  surfeit  on  their  ease,  will  day  I?y  day 
Come  here  for  physic. 

[lb.  III.  i.  17). 

Falstaff  is  ashamed  of  his  soldiers — and  describing  the 
composition  of  his  regiment,  calls  them  "  Cankers  of  a 
calm  world  and  a  long  peace."  (i  Hen.  IV.  IV.  ii.  31).  The 
Archbishop  of  York  justifies  the  rebellion  about  which  he 
has  been  challenged  thus  :  — 

Wherefore  do  I  this  ?     So  the  question  stands  ; — 

Briefly  to  this  end  :  we  are  all  diseased, 

And  with  our  surfeiting  and  wanton  hours 

Have  brought  ourselves  into"  a  burning  fever, 

And  we  must  bleed  for  it ;  of  which  disease, 

Our  late  King,  Richard,  being  infected,  died. 

But,  my  most  noble  Lord  of  Westmoreland, 

I  take  not  on  me  here  as  a  physician  ; 

Nor  do  I,  as  an  enemy  to  peace, 

Troop  in  the  throngs  of  military  men  : 

But  rather  shew  a  while  like  fearful  war. 

To  diet  rank  minds,  sick  of  happiness. 

And  purge  the  obstructions,  which  begin  to  stop 

Our  verv  veins  of  life. 

(2  Hen  IV.  IV.  i.  53). 

Bacon  says  of  Henry  VII.  that  insurrection  was 
*'  almost  a  fever  that  took  him  every  year."  (Works.  VI. 
8g).  Medical  analogies,  shewn  in  such  words  as,  exercise, 
humours,  fever,  heat,  sloth,  sick,  surfeit,  canker,  bleed, 
rank,  purge,  obstructions,  stopped  veins,  govern  the 
whole  theory  of  wars  in  Bacon  and  Shakespeare  alike, 

23.  Bacon  in  speaking  of  the  waste  of  vital  force  by 
excessive  indulgence  of  passion,  says  that  the  resulting 
weakness  (of  sight  especially)  is  caused  by  the  "  expense 
of  spirit."  The  same  phrase  is  applied  to  the  same 
riotous  indulgences  in  Sonnet  129. 

The  expense  of  spirit  in  a  waste  of  shame. 
Is  lust  in  action. 


j^.  Bacon,  in  his  speech  of  Undertakers,  said,  "  I  know 
but  two  forts  in  this  house  which  the  King  ever  hath, 
the  fort  of  affection,  and  the  fort  of  reason;  the  one  com- 
mands the  hearts,  the  other  commands  the  heads." 
("Life"  V.43). 

In  the  Discourse  on  Fortitude  which  is  spoken  at  the 
Conference  of  Pleasure,  the  fort  of  reason  is  again  found, 
coupled  with  other  Shakespearean  expressions,  forming  an 
excellent  triad. 

"Thus  is  fortitude  the  marshal  of  thought,  the  armour 
of  the  will,  and  the  fort  of  reason." 

The  Shakespearean  equivalents  to  these  phrases  are  : — 

The  o'er  growth  of  some  complexion, 

Oft  breaking  down  tlie  pales  and  forts  of  reason. 

{Ham.  I.  iv.  27). 


Reason  becomes  the  marshal  to  my  will. 

{M.  N.  jD.  II.  ii.  120). 


and. 


The  single  and  peculiar  life  is  bound, 

With  all  the  strength  and  armour  of  the  mind, 

To  keep  itself  from  noyance. 

{Ham.  III.  iii.  11). 

25.  In  1615,  Bacon,  being  anxious  to  obtain  the  status 
of  a  Privy  Counsellor,  since  he  was  acting  and  advising 
as  one,  wrote  to  Villiers  : — "  Sure  I  am,  there  were  never 
times  which  did  more  require  a  King's  attorney  to  be  well 
armed,  and  (as  I  said  once  to  you)  to  wear  a  gauntlet  and 
not  a  glove."     ("  Life  "  V.  260). 

Similarly,  Northumberland,  seeing  the  time  for  rebellion 
approaching,  casts  aside  the  dress  and  equipment  of  sick- 
ness, and  exclaims  : — 

Hence,  therefore,  thou  nice  crutch  ! 

A  scaly  gauntlet  now,  with  joints  of  steel, 

Must  glove  this  hand. 

{2  Hen.  IV.  I.  i.  145). 

26.  Bacon  purposed  the  Codification  and   Amendment 


PAPER    LIGHT,  253 

of  the  Laws,  and  regarded  this  as  a  work  of  infinite 
importance,  needing  no  special  commendation.  "This 
work,"  he  says,  "shining  so  in  itself,  needs  no  taper." — 
("Life"  VL  64). 

Salisbury,  rebuking  King  John  for  being  crowned  a 
second  time,  when  the  glory  of  his  original  coronation  yet 
remained  undimmed,  says  : — 

Therefore  to  be  possessed  with  double  pomp 

To  guard  a  title  that  was  rich  before  .  .  . 

To  smooth  the  ice,  or  add  another  hue 

Unto  the  rainbow,  or  with  taper-light 

To  seek  the  beauteous  eye  of  heaven  to  garnish. 

Is  wasteful  and  ridiculous  excess. 

[John  IV.  ii.  9). 

Bacon  is  fond  of  taper-light.  In  his  discourse  on 
Queen  Elizabeth,  he  says  : — "  The  fires  of  troubles  abroad 
have  been  ordained  to  be  as  lights  and  tapers  to  make  her 
virtue  and  magnanimity  more  apparent."  ("  Life"  I.  132). 
The  same  contrast  between  sunlight  and  taper  or  lantern 
light  is  noted  in  the  Promus  688  :  "  To  help  the  sun  with 
lantornes " — which  seems  to  be  an  anticipation  of  the 
passage  in  John,  This  superfluous  juxtaposition  of  the 
limited  supplies  of  art  with  the  unlimited  affluence  of 
nature,  is  noted  also  in  the  two  preceding  Pvonms  notes, 
viz. — 686  :  Juxta  fluvmm  piiteiim  foderc — to  dig  a  well  close 
by  a  river ;  and  687  :  A  ring  of  gold  on  a  swine's  snout. 
These  ideas  are  clearly  reproduced  in  Shakespeare  : — 

What  fool  hath  added  water  to  the  sea, 

Or  brought  a  faggot  to  bright  burning  Troy  ? 

(77/.  A.  III.  i.  68). 

That  were  to  enlard  his  fat-already  pride, 
And  add  more  coals  to  Cancer  when  he  burns 
With  entertaining  great  Hyperion. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  iii.  205). 

The  raven  chides  blackness. 

{lb.  221). 

Andrew — Would  vou  not  have  me  honest  ? 


254         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    DACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Toiichsioiic. — No,  truly,  unless  thou  wert  hard  favoured  :  for  honesty 
coupled  to  beauty  is  to  have  honey  as  a  sauce  to  sugar. 

(.4s  You  Like  n  III.  iii.  29). 

Who,  when  he  lived,  his  healtli  and  beauty  set 
Gloss  on  the  rose,  smell  to  the  violet. 

(r.^.935)- 

The  Proinus  note  687  presents  the  same  sort  of  contrast 
as  that  which  is  twice  pictured  in  Shakespeare  : — 

O,  she  doth  teach  the  torches  to  burn  bright. 
It  seems  she  hangs  upon  the  cheek  of  night, 
Like  a  rich  jewel  in  an  .^Ethiop's  ear. 

{Rom.  'Jul.  I.  V.  42). 

Save  that  my  soul's  imaginary  sight 
Presents  thy  shadow  to  my  sightless  view, 
Which,  like  a  jewel  hung  in  ghastly  night. 
Makes  black  night  beauteous,  and  her  old  face  new. 

(Son.  27). 

In  all  these  cases,  as  in  the  three  successive  Pronms 
notes,  Bacon  and  the  Poet  had  the  same  intention  of 
bringing  into  comparison  or  contrast,  the  sublime  or  serious 
on  the  one  hand,  with  the  ridiculous  or  trivial  on  the 
other  :  what  is  beautiful  and  natural  with  what  is  grotesque, 
fantastic  and  artificial. 

See  this  point  further  discussed  in  "  Bacon  Journal  "  I. 
70-72. 

27.  The  following  passage  from  a  letter  written  by  Bacon 
to  Sir  Tobie  Mathew,  Feb.  28,  1621,  soon  after  his  fall, 
has  singular  affinities  with  passages  in  Shakespeare  : — 

"  In  this  solitude  of  friends,  which  is  the  base-court  of 
adversity,  where  almost  nobody  will  be  seen  stirring,  I 
have  often  remembered  a  saying  of  my  Lord  Ambassador 
of  Spain,  'Amor  san  fin,  no  tienne  fin  ' — (Love  without 
end  has  no  end).     ("  Life  "  VII.  335) 

The  base-court  recalls  the  lines  in  Richard  II.  North- 
umberland speaks : — 

My  Lord,  in  the  base  court  he  doth  attend 


BASE    COURT.      COURT   HOI.Y    WATER.  255 

To  speak  with  you  ;  may't  please  you  to  come  down  ? 

King  Rich. — Down  ?  down  I  come  ;  like  glistering  Phacthon  ; 
Wanting  the  manage  of  unruly  jades. 
In  the  base  court?     Base  court,  where  kings  grow  base, 
To  come  at  traitors'  calls  and  do  them  grace. 
In  the  base  coint  ?  Come  down  f  Down  court !  down  King  ! 
For  night-owls  shriek  where  mounting  larks  should  sing, 

{Rich.  II.  III.  iii.  176). 

The  ambassador's  proverb,  and  the  mode  of  quoting  it — 
"I  have  often  remembered," — is  echoed  in  Cymbeline  : — 

I  know  not  why 

I  love  this  youth  ;  and  I  have  heard  you  say. 

Love's  reason's  without  reason. 

{Cyinb.  IV.  ii.  20). 

This  is  evidently  a  variation  on  the  Spanish  proverb.  The 
meaning  of  the  proverb  is  very  elastic,  and  one  of  the 
interpretations  that  may  be  put  upon  the  phrase,  Love 
without  End,  is  Love  without  thought  of  self,  or  reason. 
Bacon's  nimble  mind  could  easily  make  the  transition. 

28.  In  1592,  Bacon  wrote  of  Lord  Burleigh,  "  He  was 
no  brewer  of  holy  water  in  Court,  no  dallier,  no  abuser, 
but  ever  real  and  certain."  ("  Life  "  L  200).  And  writing 
to  Lord  Burleigh's  son,  Salisbury,  in  1607,  he  says,  "Your 
Lordship  is  no  dealer  of  holy  water,  but  noble  and  real." 
{lb.  in.  297). 

The  same  very  curious  phrase  occurs  in  Lear.  The  Fool 
says  to  the  outcast  King,  "  O,  nuncle,  court  holy  water  in 
a  dry  house  is  better  than  rain  out  o'  door."  {Lear 
III.  ii.  10).  The  Clarendon  note  on  this  passage  informs 
us  that  the  phrase,  Court  holy  water,  is  of  French  origin — 
Eau  benite  de  Cour.  It  means  the  fair,  complimentary, 
ceremonious  phraseology  of  a  Court — fair  words,  easily 
spoken,  easily  believed,  easily  disbelieved. 

29.  In  the  following  passage  from  Shakespeare,  the  full 
meaning  is  not  contained  in  the  words  as  they  stand — 
that  must  be  obtained  from  a  corresponding  passage  in 
Bacon,     In  the  play  of  Richard  II.,  Bohngbroke  enters  the 


256         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

lists  at  Coventry,  and  gives  courteous  salutation  to  the 
King  and  his  lords,  and  last  of  all  to  his  father.  Gaunt, 
whom  he  thus  accosts  : — 

Lo,  as  at  English  feasts,  so  I  regrect 

The  daintiest  last,  to  make  the  end  most  sweet. 

{Ricli,  II.  I.  iii.  67). 

The  custom  of  bringing  sw^eetmeats  on  the  table  as  the 
last  course  of  a  feast  is  doubtless  alluded  to.  But  why 
should  this  be  spoken  of  as  a  specially  English  custom  ? 
Has  the  speaker  in  his  mind  any  country  where  a  different 
practise  prevails  ?  What  country  ?  and  what  other  ending 
is  observed  for  feasts  in  this  country  ?  The  text  supplies 
no  answer  to  these  questions  :  but  a  speech  of  Bacon's 
does.  In  it  he  is  reported  to  have  addressed  the  House  of 
Commons  in  these  words:  "Let  not  this  Parliament  end 
like  a  Dutch  feast  in  salt  meats,  but  like  an  English  feast 
in  sweet  meats."  ("Life"  IH.  215).  Here,  then,  the 
missing  terms  of  the  comparison  are  supplied, — Dutch 
feasts, — salted  meats.  And  we  see  that  if  the  poet  had 
given  full  expression  to  all  that  was  in  his  mind,  he  might 
have  added  another  line  to  Bolingbroke's  salutation. 
Thus  : — 

Lo,  as  at  English  feasts,  I  here  regreet 

The  daintiest  last,  to  make  the  end  most  sweet, 

[Not  like  Dutch  feasts,  that  end  with  salted  meat.] 

30.  Bacon's  willing  service  finds  a  singular  mode  of 
expressing  itself  in  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  to 
Villiers,  Nov.  2gth,  1616  : — 

"  Your  Lordship  may  assure  yourself,  in  whatsoever  you 
commit  to  me,  your  Lordship's  further  care  shall  be  need- 
less. For  I  desire  to  take  nothing  from  my  Master  and 
my  friend,  but  care  ;  and  therein,  I  am  so  covetous  as  I 
will  leave  them  as  little  as  may  be."  ("Life"  VL  115). 
Henry  V.  expresses  his  special  form  of  covetousness  in  the 
same  manner : — 

By  Jove  !  I  am  not  covetous  for  gold. 


SLANDER.     GARRULITY.  257 

Nor  care  I  who  cloth  feed  upon  my  cost ; 
It  yearns  me  not,  if  men  my  garments  wear  ; 
Such  outward  things  dwell  not  in  my  desires  ; 
But  if  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honour, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive. 

{Hen.   V.  IV.  iii.  24). 

31.  When  Bacon  writes  to  Villiers,  (1615),  "Fame  hath 
swift  wings,  specially  that  which  hath  black  feathers," 
("Life"  V.  248),  we  know  he  is  speaking  of  injurious  or 
slanderous  reports.  But  his  entire  meaning  is  better 
understood  if  we  refer  to  Sonnet  70. 

That  thou  art  blamed,  shall  not  be  thy  defect, 
For  slander's  mark  was  ever  yet  the  fair  ; 
The  ornament  of  beauty  is  suspect, 
A  crow  that  flics  in  heaven's  sweetest  air. 

So,  then,  the  bird  of  swift  wing  and  black  feathers  is  the 
crow,  the  black  colour  means  suspicion  or  slander.  The 
entire  idea,  thus  metaphorically  expressed,  and  divided 
between  the  two  utterances,  is  an  organic  whole  ;  the 
metaphor  and  the  moral  were  conceived  together  and  are 
the  offspring  of  the  same  parent.  Bacon  is  interpreted  by 
Shakespeare. 

32.  Bacon  makes  a  somewhat  scornful  reference  to  men 
holding  high  office  who  cling  to  their  post  after  their 
powers  are  decayed.  "  Nay,  retire,  men  cannot  when  they 
would  ;  neither  will  they  when  it  were  reason  ;  but  are 
impatient  of  privatenes.s,  even  in  age  and  sickness,  which 
require  the  shadow  ;  like  old  townsmen  that  will  be  still 
sitting  at  their  street  door,  though  thereby  they  offer  age 
to  scorn."     (Essay  of  "Great  Place."). 

Shakespeare  was  very  fond  of  drawing  the  same  picture. 
It  is  most  exactly  reproduced  in  the  following : — 

Like  an  old  tale  still,  which  will  have  matter  to  rehearse,  though 
credit  be  asleep,  and  not  an  ear  open. 

(ir.  TalcY.  ii.  67). 

Remembering  these,  we  can  better  understand  the  familiar 
outlines  of  the  following  picture  : — 

s 


258         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

This  act  is  as  an  ancient  tale  new  told, 
And  in  the  last  repeating  troublesome, 
Being  urged  at  a  time  unseasonable. 
In  this  the  antique  and  well-noted  face 
Of  plain  old  form  is  much  disfigured. 

{John  IV.  ii.  18). 

The  same  picture  is  given  in  another  setting  : — 

So  should  my  papers,  yellow'd  with  their  age. 

Be  scorned,  like  old  men  of  less  truth  than  tongue  ; 

And  your  true  rights  be  term'd  a  poet's  rage, 

And  stretched  metre  of  an  antique  song.       (Son.  17). 

Her  song  was  tedious,  and  outwore  the  night. 
For  lovers'  hours  are  long,  though  seeming  short ; 
If  pleased  themselves,  others,  they  think,  delight 
In  such-like  circumstance,  with  such-like  sport. 
Their  copious  stories,  oftentimes  begun. 
End  without  audience,  and  are  never  done. 

{Veil.  ^.841). 

33.  The  fancy  that  the  two  eyes  may  wear  different 
expressions,  or  be  differently  employed,  is  common  to 
Bacon  and  Shakespeare.  It  is  most  familiar  in  the  King's 
description  of  himself,  mourning  for  his  deceased  brother, 
yet  glad  to  wear  his  crown  and  wed  his  queen  : — 

As  'twere  with  a  defeated  joy, — 
With  an  auspicious  and  a  dropping  eye, 
With  mirth  in  funeral,  and  with  dirge  in  marriage. 

{Ham.  I.  ii.  11), 

The  same  double  sight  is  assumed  in  Winter's  Tale : — 

But,  O,  the  noble  combat  that,  'twixt  joy  and  sorrow,  was  fought 
in  Paulina  !  She  had  one  eye  declined  for  the  loss  of  her  husband  ; 
another  elevated  that  the  oracle  was  fulfilled.  {Winter's  Tale  V. 
ii.  80). 

Bacon  also  describes  Perkin  Warbeck,  —  "  beginning  to 
squint  one  eye  upon  the  crown,  and  another  upon  the 
sanctuary."  (Works  VI.  192).  And  in  the  account  of 
Squire's  conspirac}',  we  find, — "  Walpoole  carrying  a 
waking  and  a  waiting  eye."     ("  Life  "  II.  iii). 


TIME    OUT    OF    JOINT.  259 

34.  Shakespeare's  phrase  "out  of  joint,"  which  has 
passed  into  current  speech,  so  that  it's  singular  and 
original  character  is  forgotten,  is  used  more  than  once  both 
in  Shakespeare  and  Bacon.  The  passages  in  the  poetry 
are  the  following  : — 

The  time  is  out  of  joint :  O,  cursed  spite, 
Tliat  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  right. 

{Ham.  I.  V.  188). 

Young  Fortinbras, 
Holding  a  weak  supposal  of  3'our  worth, 
Or  thinking  by  our  late  dear  brother's  death 
Our  state  to  be  disjoint  and  out  of  frame. 

(76.  I.  ii.  17). 

But  let  the  frame  of  things  disjoint. 

{Macb.  III.  ii.  16). 

He  hath  the  joints  of  everything  ;  but  ever34hing  so  out  of  joint, 
that  he  is  a  gouty  Briareus,  many  hands  and  no  use. 

{Tro.  Cr.  I.  ii.  27). 

Bacon  is  equally  partial  to  the  same  form  of  speech  : — 

"We  do  plainly  see  in  the  most  countries  of  Europe,  so 
unsound  and  shaken  an  estate,  as  desireth  the  help  of  some 
great  person  to  set  together  and  join  again  the  pieces 
asunder  and  out  of  joint."  "Notes  on  the  State  of 
Christendom,"  1582.     ("  Life  "  I.  27). 

As  the  lines  in  Hamlet  which  bear  so  remarkable  a 
resemblance  to  this  passage,  appeared  in  the  earliest 
known  edition,  1603,  it  was  probably  also  in  the  oldest 
edition  of  Hamlet,  before  1587,  no  copy  of  which  is  known 
to  exist. 

In  another  early  paper  of  Bacon's, — the  Observations  on 
a  Libel,  1592, — the  same  phrase  occurs.  Referring  to 
authors  of  foreign  libels,  he  says,  "It  must  be  understood 
that  it  hath  been  the  general  practise  of  this  kind  of  men, 
...  to  abuse  the  foreign  estates,  by  making  them  believe 
that  all  is  out  of  joint,  and  ruinous  here  in  England." 
{"Life"  I.  152). 

In   a  letter  to  the    King,    1615,   referring  to  a  trading 


26o  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IX    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

company,  he  discusses,  "what  is  further  to  be  done  for  the 
setting  of  the  trade  again  in  joint."     ("  Life  "  V.  257). 

35.  The  advice  which  lago  gives  to  Roderigo  {Oih.  I.  iii. 
333)'  "Put  money  in  •  tliy  purse," — advice  which  is 
repeated  with  one  or  two  variations,  ten  times,  seems  to 
have  been  a  formula  used  by  Bacon  to  indicate  a  state  of 
worldly  ease  and  satisfaction,  in  which  the  strivings  of 
ambition  are  less  eager,  and  the  stirrings  of  discontent  less 
dangerous.  When  Bacon  was  taking  stock  of  the  rising 
men  whose  opposition  had  to  be  taken  into  account,  he 
does  so  in  these  terms: — "  Yelverton  is  won;  Sands  is 
fallen  off;  Crew  and  Hyde  stand  to  be  Serjeants;  Neville 
hath  his  hopes  ;  Martin  Jiath  money  in  his  purse ;  Brock  is 
dead."     ("  Life  "  IV.  365  &  370). 

In  the  letter  of  advice  to  Essex,  1598,  he  says,  "Tyrone 
is  more  like  a  gamester  that  will  give  over  because  he  is  a 
winner,  than  because  he  hath  no  more  money  in  his  purse." 
("Life"  II.  98). 

There  are  several  passages  in  Shakespeare,  besides  that 
in  Othello,  in  which  much  the  same  phrase,  or  its  converse, 
with  the  same  meaning,  occurs  : — 


O,  ho,  are  3-011  there   with  me  ?     No  eyes  in  your  head,  nor  no 

{Lear.  IV.  vi.  148). 


money  in  your  purse  ? 


Look  where  my  ranting  host  of  the  Garter  comes  :    there  is  either 
liquor  in  his  pale,  or  nioney  in  his  purse,  wlien  he  looks  so  merrily. 

(Mcr.  IF'.  II.  i.  195). 

With  a  good  leg  and  a  good  foot,  uncle,  and  money  enough  in  his 

purse,  such  a  man  would  win  any  woman  in  the  world,  if  a'  could 

get  her  good-will. 

{Much  Ado.  II.  i.  15). 

For  my  part,  I  had  rather  bear  with  j'ou  than  bear  you;    yet  I 

should    bear  no  cross  if  I  did  bear  you,  for  I  think  you  have  no- 

money  in  vour  purse. 

{As  You  Like  nil.  i\:  11). 

His  purse  is  empt)' ;  all's  golden  words  are  spent. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.  136). 


ADVANTAGE.       WOLVES.  26r 

36.  Bacon,  writing  to  Villiers,  July  5th,  1616,  asks, 
"  For  if  time  give  his  Majesty  the  advantage,  what  needeth 
precipitation  to  extreme  remedies?"  ("Life"  V.  379). 
Surely  this  is  simply  a  variation  of  the  more  condensed 
expression  of  the  same  maxim  : — 

Advantage  is  a  better  soldier  than  rashness. 

{Hen.  V.  III.  vi.  128). 

This  almost  technical  use  of  the  word  advantage,  as 
applied  to  time,  is  distinctly  Baconian.  It  is  equally 
Shakesperian  : — 

Take  all  the  swift  advantage  of  the  hours. 

{Ricli.  III.  IV.  i.  49). 

Beyond  him  in  the  advantage  of  the  time. 

{Cyinb.  IV.  i.  12). 

Make  use  of  time,  let  not  advantage  slip. 

{Veil.  A.  129). 

2)7.  Bacon  not  infrequently  describes  the  extremest  type 
of  social  disorder  as  one  in  which  men  become  wolves  and 
devour  each  other.  In  the  Antitheta  on  Justice,  we  find  : 
"It  is  owing  to  Justice  that  man  is  a  God  to  man  and  not 
a  wolf."     {De  Aug.  Yl.  iil). 

In  expounding  the  proverb,  "A  righteous  man  falling 
down  before  the  wicked,  is  as  a  troubled  fountain  and  a 
corrupt  spring," — he  winds  up  with,  "For  when  the 
judgment-seat  takes  the  part  of  injustice,  there  succeeds  a 
state  of  general  robbery,  and  men  turn  wolves  to  each 
other,  according  to  the  adage."     {De  Aug.  VIII.  ii.  25). 

The  same  condition  of  social  degeneration  is  magnifi- 
cently described  by  Shakespeare, — as  a  state  in  which 
"degree  is  shaked," — when  all  things  are  in  a  state  of 
"oppugnancy,"  or  strife.  In  such  a  state  justice  no  longer 
exists  : — 

Force  should  be  right :  or,  rather,  riglit  and  wrong, 
Between  whose  endless  jar  justice  resides, 
Should  lose  their  names,  and  so  should  justice  too. 


262         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Tticn  everything  includes  itself  in  power, 

Power  into  will,  will  into  appetite, 

And  appetite,  an  universal  wolf. 

So  doubly  seconded  by  will  and  power, 

Must  make  perforce  an  universal  prey, 

And  last  cat  up  itself. 

(Sec  Tro.  C/ys.  I.  iii.  75-137)- 

Henry  IV.  apprehends  similar  chaos  when  his  wild  son 
comes  to  the  throne  : — 

O,  my  poor  Kingdom,  sick  with  civil  blows  ! 
When  that  my  care  could  not  withhold  thy  riots, 
What  thou  wilt  do,  when  riot  is  thy  care  ? 
O,  thou  wilt  be  a  wilderness  again, 
Peopled  with  wolves,  thy  old  inhabitants. 

(See  2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  v.  1 18-138). 

This,  too,  is  the  light  in  which  Albany  regards  the 
kingdom  when  Lear  is  outcast : — 

If  that  the  heavens  do  not  their  visible  spirits 

Send  quickly  down  to  tame  these  vile  offences, 

Humanity  must  perforce  prey  on  itself, 

Like  monsters  of  the  deep. 

[Lear  IV.  ii.  46). 

38.  The  curious  expression  play  prizes  occurs  once  in 
Shakespeare : — 

So,  Bassianus,  you  have  played  your  prize. 

{Tii.  A.  hi.  399). 

It  is  found  also  in  Bacon, — Oliver  St.  John,  "  intending, 
as  it  seems  to  play  prizes,  would  give  no  answer." 
("Life"  V.  140). 

"  Far  be  it  from  us,  by  any  strains  of  wit  or  art,  to  seek 
to  play  prizes,  or  to  blazon  our  names  in  blood."  ("  Speech 
against  Somerset,"  lb.  V.  307). 

"  Who  would  not  be  offended  at  one  who  comes  into  the 
pulpit,  as  if  he  came  upon  the  stage  to  play  parts  or 
prizes  ?  "     ("  Pacification  of  the  Church,"  lb.  III.  iigj. 

39.  Starting  holes  is  another  curious  phrase  : — 


PUTTING    TRICKS    UPON.  263 

What  trick,  what  device,  what  starting  hole  can'st  thou  now  find 
out  to  hide  thee  from  this  open  and  apparent  shame  ? — i  Hen.  /F 
II.  iv.  290. 

Bacon,  in  his  report  on  Lopez'  conspiracy  describes  how 
he,  "thought  to  provide  for  himself  as  many  starting  holes 
and  evasions  as  he  could  devise,  if  any  of  these  matters 
should  come  to  light."     ("  Life  "  I.  283). 

Bacon  describes  certain  conditions,  not  easily  complied 
with,  in  a  certain  experiment,  and  of  them,  he  says, 
"These  two  last  I  could  easily  suspect  to  be  prescribed  as 
a  starting  hole  " — to  account  for  failure.     {Syl.  Syl.  998). 

40.  Bacon's  Essay  of  "  Cunning "  concludes  with  the 
following  observation: — "Some  build  rather  upon  the 
abusing  of  others,  and  (as  we  now  say)  putting  tricks  upon 
them,  than  upon  the  soundness  of  their  own  proceedings." 
This  Essay  was  originally  published  in  1612.  On  the 
above  passage,  Dr.  Abbott  remarks,  "The  word  now 
seems  to  apologize  for  the  new-fashioned  colloquial 
phrase,  pttt  tricks  on."  It  is  used  by  Stephano  {Tempest  II. 
ii.  62),  and  by  the  Clown  in  AlVs  Well  IV.  v.  63. 

Stephano. — Have  we  devils  here  ?     Do  you  put  tricks  upon  us  with 
savages  ? 
Clown. — If  I  put  any  tricks  upon  them,  Sir,  they  shall  be  jade's 
tricks. 

As  neither  of  these  plays  were  known  till  1623,  there  is  no 
reason  for  giving  the  phrase  an  earlier  date  than  the  Essay. 

41.  Bacon  more  than  once  uses  the  curious  verb  stage. 
Thus  in  a  letter  to  Buckingham,  he  says,  "These  things 
should  not  be  staged,  nor  talked  of."     ("  Life"  \TI.  151). 

In  a  precisely  similar  sense  the  word  is  used  in  Shake- 
speare : — 

I  love  the  people  ; 
But  do  not  like  to  stage  me  in  their  eyes. 

(Meas.forMeas.  I.  i.  68). 

The  quick  comedians, 

Extemporarily  will  stage  us. 

{Ant.  CI.  V.  ii.  216). 


264         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

42.  Bacon's  observations  about  Motes  and  Shadows  are 
very  characteristic.  "The  utmost  parts  of  shadows  seem 
ever  to  tremble.  The  cause  is  for  that  the  httle  motes 
which  we  see  in  the  sun  do  ever  stir,  though  there  be  no 
wind,  and  therefore  those  moving  in  the  meeting  of  the 
hght  and  shadow,  from  the  hght  to  the  shadow,  and  from 
the  shadow  to  the  light,  do  show  the  shadow  to  move 
because  the  medium  moveth."     {Syl.  Syl.  879). 

This  portion  of  Bacon's  Natural  History  helps  us  to 
a  complete  explanation  of  a  line  in  Pericles, 

Like  motes  and  shadows  see  them  move  awhile. 

{Pericles  IV.  iv.  21). 

43.  Most  people  use  the  twin  adjectives  gross  and 
palpable,  without  thought  of  their  origin.  It  is  one  of 
Bacon's  many  contributions  to  verbal  currency.  It  was  a 
new  coin  when  it  issued  from  his  affluent  mint  ;  it  is  now 
available  to  everyone  for  verbal  traffic.  Anyone  using  it  in 
the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  would  have  felt 
almost  obliged  to  quote  Bacon  while  employing  it.  It  is 
as  well  to  recall  our  obligation  to  him  now  that  we  have 
reached  the  twentieth  century. 

In  his  charge  against  Oliver  St.  John,  summing  up  his 
indictments,  he  proceeds  :  "The  second  is  a  slander  and 
falsification  and  wresting  of  the  law  of  the  land,  gross  and 
palpable."  ("Life"  V.  141).  In  his  charge  against  Lady 
Somerset  referring  to  her  secret  plan  of  murdering 
Overbury  by  poison,  he  describes  the  crime  as  one  "done 
with  an  oath  or  vow  of  secrecy,  which  is  like  the  Egyptian 
darkness,  a  gross  and  palpable  darkness  that  may  be  felt." 
{lb.  V.  103).  In  his  observations  on  a  libel,  he  promises 
his  readers  to  give  them,  "a  taste  of  their  untruths, 
especially  such  as  are  wittily  contrived,  and  are  not 
merely  gross  and  palpable."  ("  Life  "  I.  267)  And  in  the 
"  Advancement  of  Learning,"  he  refers  to  the  "  gross  and 
palpable  flattery,  wherewith  many  (not  the  unlearned) 
have   abased  and  abused  their  wits  and  pens."     (Works 

in.  281) 


THE    BAIL    OF    DEATH.  265 

Bacon  then  may  be  regarded  as  the  originator  of  this 
formula  of  speech.  But  Shakespeare's  claim  is  almost  the 
same. 

This  palpable,  gross  play  hath  well  beguiled 

The  heavy  gait  of  night. 

(.1/.  xV.  D.  V.  i.  374). 

Prince  Hal  says  of  Falstaff's  witty  inventions  :  — "  These 
lies  are  like  their  father  that  begets  them,  gross  as  a 
mountain,  open,  palpable."     (i  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iv.  249). 

A  trace  of  the  same  is  found  in  another  passage  : — 

'Tis  so  strange, 
That  though  the  truth  of  it  stand  out  as  gross 
As  black  and  white,  ni}'  eye  will  scarcely  see  it. 

{Hen.  V.  II.  ii.  102). 

44.  In  Bacon's  charge  against  Somerset,  he  describes 
how  Somerset  first  contrived  that  his  victim  should  be 
taken  to  the  Tower  : — 

"He  should  be  laid  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  then 
they  would  look  he  should  be  close  enough,  and  death 
should  be  his  bail."  Another  version  has,  "  And  indeed,  he 
did  deliver  him,  but  his  bail  was  death.     ("  Life"  V.  315). 

Death  is  referred  to  in  much  the  same  way  in  the 
Poetry  : — 

But  be  contented  :  when  that  fell  arrest 

Without  all  bail  shall  carr}'  me  away,  &c. 

(Son.  74). 

This  fell  sergeant.  Death, 

Is  strict  in  his  arrest. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.  347). 

45.  One  of  the  chapters  in  Bacon's  "Wisdom  of  the 
Ancients"  is  entitled,  "Narcissus, — or  Self-Love." 
Narcissus  is  only  twice  mentioned  in  Shakespeare,  and  in 
one  of  these  passages,  the  title  of  Bacon's  chapter  is 
repeated  : — 

Whereat  she  smiled  with  so  sweet  a  cheer. 
That  had  Narcissus  seen  her  as  she  stood, 


266         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Self-love  had  never  drowned  liim  in  the  flood. 

(Liicrece  264). 

It  is  worth  while  noting  that  the  "Wisdom  of  the 
Ancients "  was  pubhshed  in  i6og,  fifteen  years  after  the 
pubHcation  of  Lucrece. 

46.  Shakespeare  writes  in  one  of  his  Sonnets  (100). 

Give  my  love  fame,  faster  than  Time  wastes  life. 

Much  the  same  phrase  is  used  in  Bacon's  tract  on  the 
"  Pacification  of  the  Church  "  : — "  The  civil  state  is  purged 
and  restored  by  good  and  wholesome  laws,  made  every 
third  or  fourth  year,  in  Parliaments  assembled  ; — devising 
remedies  as  fast  as  time  breedeth  mischiefs."  ("Life" 
iii.  105). 

47.  One  rather  frequent  mode  of  expression  with  Bacon, 
is  to  say  of  some  attribute  or  quality  that  it  lies  in  the 
object  to  which  it  addresses  itself,  and  does  not  exist  for 
its  own  sake.  For  instance,  he  affirms  that  "  no  kind  of 
men  love  business  for  itself,  but  those  that  are  learned  " — 
"so  that  as  it  is  said  of  untrue  valours  that  some  men's 
valours  are  in  the  eyes  of  them  that  look  on,  so  such  men's 
industries  {i,e.,  other  than  learning)  are  in  the  eyes  of 
others,  or  at  least  in  regard  of  their  own  designments." 
"  Advancement  "  I.  ii.  5.  (Works  III.  272).  In  another 
place,  the  application  of  this  to  the  Spaniards  is  made  : — 
"The  Spaniard's  valour  lieth  in  the  eye  of  the  looker  on, 
but  the  Enghsh  valour  lieth  about  the  soldier's  heart." 
("Life"  VII.  499). 

Shakespeare  has  the  same  habit  of  expression  : — 

A  jest's  prosperity  lies  in  the  ear 

Of  him  that  hears  it ;  never  in  the  tongue 

Of  him  that  makes  it. 

(L.  L.  L.  V.  n.  871). 

Green. — Our  nearness  to  the  King  in  love 

Is  near  the  hate  of  those  love  not  the  King. 
Bagot. — And  that's  the  wavering  commons,  for  their  love 

Lies  in  their  purses. 

{Rich.  II.  II.  h.  127). 


WINKING    MARIGOLDS.       MADNESS    PREVALENT.         267 

This  is  a  slave  whose  easy-borrow'd  pride, 
Dwells  in  the  fickle  grace  of  her  he  follows. 

{Lear  II.  iv.  188). 

A  strutting  player,  whose  conceit 

Lies  in  his  hamstring. 

{Tro.  Ci:  I.  iii.  153). 

48.  "Some  of  the  ancients,"  says  Bacon,  .  .  .  "have 
noted  a  sympathy  between  the  sun,  moon,  and  principal 
stars,  and  certain  herbs  and  plants,  .  .  .  marigolds, 
tulippas,  pimpernel,  and  indeed  most  flowers  do  open  or 
spread  their  leaves  abroad  when  the  sun  shineth  serene 
and  fair :  and  again  (in  some  part)  close  them  or  gather 
them  inward  either  towards  night  or  when  the  sky  is  over- 
cast."    {Syl.  Syl.  493). 

The  morning  serenade  in  Cymheline  refers  to  this 
property  of  the  marigold  : — 

And  winking  marigolds  begin 

To  ope  their  golden  e3'es. 

(Cyiub.  II.  iii.  25). 


The  same  reference  is  made  in  other  passages  : 

The  marigold  that  goes  to  be 
And  with  him  rises  weeping. 


The  marigold  that  goes  to  bed  with  the  sun 


[W.  Tale  IV.  iv.  105). 

Great  princes'  favourites  their  fair  leaves  spread, 

But  as  the  marigold  at  the  sun's  eye. 

(Son.  25). 

49.  In  the  Promus,  there  is  a  note  (1055),  affirming  the 
almost  universal  prevalence  of  madness.  It  is  from 
Horace  : — 

Nimirum  insanus  paucis  videatur  ; 

Maxima  pars  Iiominum  morbo  laboret  eodem. 

(Few  persons  regard  him  as  insane — the  greater  part  of 
men  are  labouring  under  the  same  disease). 

The  same  idea  is  reproduced  even  in  such  a  seriously 
philosophical  work  as  the  Novum  Organnm  I.  27. 
"Anticipations  are  a  ground  sufficiently  firm  for  consent  ; 


268  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

for  even  if  men  went  mad  all  after  the  same  fashion,  they 
might  agree  one  with  another  well  enough." 

The  Clown  in  the  grave-digging  scene  in  Hamlet  seems 
to  have  found  out  the  same  epidemic  of  madness.  Hamlet 
asks  him  : — 

Why  was  he  [}'Oung  Hamlet],  sent  to  Enj^land? 
Clown. — Why  because  he  was  mad;  he  shall  recover  his  wits  there, 
or  if  he  do  not,  'tis  no  great  matter  there. 

Ham.— Why? 

Clown. — 'Twill  not  be  seen  in  him  there  ;  there  the  men  are  as 

mad  as  he. 

{Ham.  V.  i.  i66). 

This  is  a  pretty  faithful  reproduction  of  insaims  paucis  vi- 
deatur.  Lady  ]Macduff' s  little  son,  in  replying  to  her  teach- 
ing, that  liars  and  swearers  must  all  be  hanged  by  honest 
men,  says, — 

Then  the  liars  and  swearers  are  fools  ;  for  there  are  liars  and 
swearers  enow  to  beat  the  honest  men  and  hang  them  up. 

(Mac.  IV.  ii.  56). 

This  is  a  sort  of  variation  of  the  original  maxim.  The 
original  sentiment  combined  with  the  variation,  occurs  in 
As  You  Like  It  : — 

"  Love  is  merely  a  madness,  and  I  tell  you,  deserves  as  well  a  dark 
house  and  a  whip  as  madmen  do  ;  and  the  reason  why  they  are  not 
so  punished  and  cured  is,  that  the  lunacy  is  so  ordinary  that  the 
whippers  are  in  love  too."     {As  Yon  Like  It  III.  ii.  420). 

50.  It  is  curious  that  in  the  very  next  Aphorism  in  the 
Novum  Organnui  which  gives  this  parallel  to  the  clown's 
theory  of  general  madness,  there  is  a  very  accurate  repro- 
duction of  the  epithets  which  Ophelia  uses  to  describe 
Hamlet's  madness  : — 

Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  0///  of  tunc  and  harsh. 

{Ham.  III.  i.  166). 

Bacon  is  still  discoursing  about  Anticipations  of  the 
mind — and  contrasting  them,  in  regard  to  their  power  of 


ACCIDENT    AND    FORESIGHT.  269 

winning  assent,  with  true  interpretations  of  Nature:  which 
"cannot  suddenly  strike  the  understanding  and  therefore 
they  must  needs,  in  respect  of  the  opinions  of  the  time, 
seem  harsh  and  out  of  tune."  Tlie  Latin  is  "  duras  et 
absonas." 

51.  Bacon  speaks  of  certain  facts  as  "fit  to  be  tabled 
and  pictured  in  the  chambers  of  meditation."  ("Life" 
IV.  10.)  This  is  certainly  remarkably  like  the  Friar's 
reference  to  Hero,  supposed  to  be  dead  : — 

The  idea  of  her  Hfe  shall  sweetly  creep 

Into  his  study  of  imagination. 

(M.  Ado.  IV.  i.  226). 

52.  In  one  of  Bacon's  letters  to  the  King,  he  thus  des- 
cribes his  own  w^ork  :  — 

"  Your  Majesty  hath  put  upon  me  a  work  of  Providence 
in  this  great  cause  ;  which  is  to  break  and  distinguish 
future  events  into  present  cases,  and  so  to  present  them  to 
your  royal  judgment,  that  in  this  action,  which  hath  been 
carried  for  your  Majesty's  part  with  so  great  prudence, 
justice  and  clemency,  there  may  be  for  that  which  re- 
maineth,  as  little  surprise  as  possible  ;  but  that  things  duly 
foreseen  may  have  their  remedies  and  directions  in  readi- 
ness. Wherein  I  cannot  forget  what  the  poet.  Martial, 
saith,  0  quantum  est  casibus  ingenium,  signifying  that 
accident  is  many  times  more  subtle  than  foresight,  and 
over-reacheth  expectation."     ("Life"  V.  276). 

This  gives  us  an  insight  into  the  classic  origin  of  another 
well-known  passage  in  Hamlet  : — 

Rashly, — 
And  praised  be  rashness  for  it, — let  us  know 
Our  indiscretion  sometimes  serves  us  well, 
When  our  deep  plots  do  pall;  and  that  should  te^ch  us 
There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends. 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.6). 

53.  The  following  very  curious  correspondence  is  pointed 
out  to  me  by  Mr.  Edwin  Reed,  of  Boston,  U.S.     Although 


270         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

the  significance  of  it  is  in  one  word,  yet  that  word  is  the  key- 
word— the  one  important  word — in  both  the  passages  thus 
connected.  The  Baconian  quotation  is  judiciously  omitted 
in  the  Pitt  Press  Edition  of  Bacon's  "  Henry  VII  ;  "  but 
it  is  given  in  Spedding's  edition  of  the  Works,  Vol.  VI. 
p.  215.  The  question  under  consideration  is  as  to 
legitimacy  of  the  marriage  of  Henry  VIII.  with  Katherine 
of  Aragon,  who  had  been  married  to  Prince  Arthur.  This 
is  the  passage  : — 

"  There  was  given  in  evidence  also,  when  the  cause  of 
the  divorce  was  handled,  a  pleasant  passage,  which  was — 
that  in  a  morning  Prince  Arthur,  upon  his  uprising  from  bed 
with  her  [Katherine]  called  for  drink,  which  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  do,  and  finding  the  gentleman  of  his 
chamber  that  brought  him  the  drink  to  smile  at  it  and  to 
note  it,  he  said  merrily  to  him  that  he  had  been  in  the 
midst  of  Spain,  which  was  an  hot  region,  and  his  journey 
had  made  him  dry." 

Compare  this  with  the  colloquy  between  Dromio  and 
Antipholus  of  Syracuse. 

Div,  S. — She  is  spherical,  like  a  globe:  I  could  find  countries  in  her. 
Anf.  S. — In  what  part  of  her  body  stands  .  .   .  Spain  ? 
Div.  S. — Faith  I  saw  it  not,  but  I  felt  it  Jiot  in  tier  breath. 

{Com.  Eri'orslll  ii.  115). 

Dromio  and  Prince  Arthur's  impressions  of  Spain  are 
not  only  identical,  —  they  are  formed  apparently  under 
the  same  very  unique  conditions. 

54,  In  two  letters  written  by  Bacon  soon  after  his  fall, 
nearly  the  same  very  remarkable  expression  occurs  : — 
"While  I  live,  my  affection  to  do  you  service  shall  re- 
main quick  under  the  ashes  of  my  fortune "  (Letter  to 
Bristol. — "Life"  VII.)  And  again,  "The  sparks  of  my 
affection  shall  ever  rest  quick  under  the  ashes  of  my 
fortune,  to  do  you  service."     (Letter  to  Falkland. — lb). 

Cleopatra,  under  very  analogous  conditions,  just  before 
.she  puts  the  fatal  asp  to  her  bosom,  says, — 


TRASH.      PACKHORSE.  27I 

Prithee,  go  hence  ; 
Or  I  shall  show  the  cinders  of  my  spirits 
Through  the  ashes  of  my  chance. 

(.-i»/.  C/.  V.  ii.  172). 

As  the  play  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  was  never  heard 
of  till  1623,  two  years  after  Bacon  wrote  the  letters  from 
which  I  have  quoted,  there  is  no  good  reason  for  suppos- 
ing that  these  Hues  in  the  play  are  of  an  earlier  date. 

55.  Like  Shakespeare,  Bacon  was  accustomed  to  speak 
of  money  and  earthly  possessions  as  '' tmsh."  "If  he  be 
thankful  for  small  benefits,  it  shows  that  he  weighs  men's 
mind,  and  not  their  trash."     (Essay  of  "  Goodness  "). 

In  the  speech  at  the  trial  of  Lord  Sanquahar,  we  find, 
—  "This  I  commend  in  you,  and" take  it  to  be  an  assured 
token  of  God's  mercy  and  favour,  in  respect  whereof  all 
worldly  things  are  but  trash."     ("  Life  "  IV.  293). 

So  the  Poet  writes, — 

Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash. 

{0th.  III.  iii.  157). 

Shall  one  of  us, 
That  struck  the  foremost  man  of  all  this  world, 
But  for  supporting  robbers,  shall  we  now, 
Contaminate  our  fingers  with  base  bribes. 
And  sell  the  mighty  space  of  our  large  honours 
For  so  much  trash  as  may  be  grasped  thus? 

{Jul.  C.  IV.  iii.  21). 

To  wring 
From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trash. 

ilb.  73)- 

56.  Bacon  writes  to  Murray,  "  I  have  laboured  like  a 
pack-horse  in  your  business."     ("  Life  "  IV.  247). 

And  Shakespeare  calls  opportunity,  "Sin's  pack-horse," 
{Lucrcce  928)  ;  also  : — "  I  was  a  pack-horse  in  his  great 
affairs."     {Rich.  III.   I.  iii.  122). 

57.  Bacon,  writing  for  Walsingham,  says,  "Her 
Majesty, — not  liking  to  make  windows  into  men's  heart," 
&c.     ("Life"  I.  98). 


272  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Shakespeare  also, — 

Behold  the  whidow  of  mine  heart,  mine  eye. 

{L.L.L.y.il  848). 

Your  true  image  .  .  . 
In  my  bosom's  sliop  is  hanging  still, 
That  hath  his  windows  glazed  with  thine  e3'es. 

(Son.  24). 

58.  Bacon  wrote  to  Cecil,  "  We  live  in  an  age  when 
every  man's  imperfection  is  but  another's  fable."  ("Life" 
III.  22). 

Shakespeare  slightly  varies  the  expression, — "  Sir,  make 
me  not  your  story."  (M.  M.  I.  iv.  30).  "Make  me  not 
object  to  the  tell  tale  day."     {Lucrece  806). 

59.  Bacon  writes  to  the  King,  1606  : — "  For  gracious 
sovereign,  if  still  when  the  waters  are  stirred,  another  shall 
be  put  in  before  me,  your  Majesty  has  need  to  work  a 
miracle,  or  else  I  shall  be  still  a  lame  man  to  do  your 
service."     ("Life"  IIL  295). 

Most  probably  the  same  condition  of  ever  postponed 
promotion  is  referred  to  in  the  37th  Sonnet, — 

As  a  decrepit  father  takes  delight 

To  see  his  active  child  do  deeds  of  youth, 

So  I, — made  lame  by  fortune's  dearest  spite, — 
Take  all  my  comfort  of  thy  worth  and  truth. 

And  in  another  Sonnet,  still  more  clearly  referring  to 
the  same  absence  of  royal  favour,  he  writes, — 

Say  that  thou  did'st  forsake  me  for  some  fault, 

And  I  will  comment  upon  that  offence  : 

Speak  of  my  lameness,  and  I  straiglit  will  halt, 

Against  thy  reasons  making  no  defence. 

(Sonnet  89). 

60.  In  Bacon's  speech  for  Naturalization,  we  find — 
"The  laws  are  rather  figurce  reipublicce  than  forma;  and 
rather  bonds  of  perfection  than  bonds  of  entireness." 
("Life"  in.  314). 

So   Worcester,    when   Hotspur   has   been   speaking    of 


THE   WRONG   OF   TIME.  273 

various  modes  of  winning  honour, — all   wanting  in  rele- 
vance to  the  actual  situation,  says, — 

He  apprehends  a  world  of  figures  here, 
But  not  the  form  of  what  he  should  attend. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.  209). 

The  distinction  is  really  the  same  as  that  in  Bacon's 
speech.  Forms  and  figures  are  also  grouped  together  in 
Love's  Labour's  Lost  IV.  ii.  68. 

61.  Bacon  often  refers  to  the  wrong  of  time:  Eg.  gr., 
"  The  images  of  men's  wits  and  knowledges  remain  in 
books,  exempted  from  the  wrong  of  time,  and  capable  of 
perpetual  renovation."  ("Advancement"  I.  viii.  6. 
Works  III.  318). 

The  same  idea,  similarly  expressed,  is  found  in  the 
Sonnets, — 

Yet,  do  thy  worst,  old  Time  ;  despite  thy  wrong 

My  love  shall  in  my  verse  ever  live  young. 

(Sonnet  19). 

A  slight  variation  is  to  be  found  in  the  following  : — 

So  that  eternal  love,  in  love's  fresh  case 
Weighs  not  the  dust  and  injury  of  age, 

Nor  gives  to  necessary  wrinkles  place, 
But  makes  antiquity  for  aye  his  page. 

(Sonnet  108). 

62.  Bacon  speaks  of  the  confidence  which  seeks  "to 
depress  and  seems  to  despise  whatever  a  man  cannot 
obtain  :  observing  the  good  principle  of  the  merchants, 
who  endeavour  to  raise  the  price  of  their  own  commodities 
and  to  beat  down  the  price  of  others."  ("  Advancement  " 
II.  xxiii.  32.     Works  III.  464). 

"In  praising  and  blaming,  men  are  commonly  thinking 
of  their  own  business,  and  not  speaking  what  they  think. 

Laudat  venales  qui  vult  extrudere,  merces. 

{Horace  Ep.  II.  ii.  11). 
T 


274         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

(The  merchant  praises  what  he  wants  to  sell.) 

And  again,  '  It  is  naught,  it  is  naught,  says  the  buyer  ; 
but  when  he  is  gone  away  he  will  vaunt.'"  {De  Aug.  VI. 
iii.     First  example  of  "  Colours  of  Good  and  Evil." 

Shakespeare  writes : — 

Fair  Diomcd,  you  do  as  chapmen  do, 
Dispraise  the  thing  that  you  desire  to  buy. 
But  we  in  silence  hold  this  virtue  well 
We'll  but  commend  what  we  intend  to  sell. 

{Tro.  Cr.  IV.  i.  75). 

Beauty  is  bought  by  judgment  of  the  eye, 
Not  utter'd  by  base  sale  of  chapmen's  tongues. 

{Love's  Labour's  Lost  II.  i.  13). 

Fie,  painted  rhetoric  !     O,  she  needs  it  not  : 

To  things  of  sale  a  seller's  praise  belongs  ; 

She  passes  pi-aise ;  then  praise  too  short  doth  blot. 

{Ih.  IV.  iii.  239). 

Let  them  say  more  that  like  of  hear-say  well, 

I  will  not  praise  that  purpose  not  to  sell. 

(Sonnet  21). 

That  love  is  merchandised,  whose  rich  esteeming 
The  owner's  tongue  doth  publish  everywhere. 

(Sonnet  102). 

63.  In  the  "  Conference  of  Pleasure,"  the  Discourse  on 
Fortitude,  Bacon  speaks  of  Caesar,  when  assassinated, 
*'  as  a  stag  at  bay."     Antony  uses  the  same  language: — 

Here  wast  thou  baj-'d,  brave  heart. 

{'Jill.  C(zs.  III.  i.  204). 

In  his  eloquent  description  of  the  sea-fight  waged  by  the 
ship  Revenge  against  fifteen  great  ships  of  Spain,  he  says, 
"  This  ship,  for  the  space  of  fifteen  hours,  sat  like  a  stag 
among  hounds  at  the  bay."     ("  Life  "  VII.  491). 

64.  Bacon  says  that  "Veritas  and  Bonitas  differ  but  as 
the  seal  and  the  print,  for  Truth  prints  Goodness." 
Prospero,  in  the  Tempest,  expresses  his  infinite  disgust  with 
Caliban,  by  the  words  : — 


TECHNICAL   PHRASES.  275 

Abhorred  slave  ! 
Which  ciny  print  of  goodness  wilt  not  take. 

{Tempest  I.  ii.  351). 

65.  Bacon  speaks  of  the  logicians  as  using  particular 
instances  as  "Sergeants  and  Whifflcrs  to  make  way  and 
room  for  their  opinions."  ("Advancement"  II.  xiii.  3. 
Works  III.  p.  387). 

Shakespeare  has  : — 

Behold  the  English  beach 
Pales  in  the  flood  with  men,  with  wives  and  boys, 
Whose  shouts  and  claps  out-voice  the  deep-mouth'd  sea  ; 
Which,  like  a  mighty  whiffler  'fore  the  king, 
Seems  to  prepare  his  way. — Hen.  V.  V.     Chorus  9. 

66.  Bacon  says,  "Whatsoever  science  is  not  consonant 
to  presuppositions  must  pray  in  aid  of  siuiilitudes.'" 
("Advancement"  II.  xvii.  10.     Works  III.  407). 

Shakespeare  has, — 

A  conqueror  that  will  pray  in  aid  for  kindness, 

When  he  for  grace  is  kneel'd  to — [Ant.  &  CI.  V.  ii.  27). 

67.  Bacon,  writing  to  his  Uncle,  Lord  Burghley,  March 
2ist,  1594,  on  the  Queen's  constant  neglect  of  his  advance- 
ment, said,  "  I  understood  Her  Majesty  not  only  to  con- 
tinue in  her  delay,  but  ...  to  be  retrograde,  to  use  the 
word  apted  to  the  highest  powers."     ("  Life  "  I.  357). 

The  same  unusual  expression  occurs  in  Shakespeare  : — 

Hel. — You  must  needs  be  born  under  Mars, 

Parol. — When  he  was  predominant  ; 

Hel. — When  he  was  retrograde,  I  think  rather. 

See  also  Haui.  I.  ii.  114, — "most  retrograde  to  our  desire." 

68.  Bacon  speaks  of  "fair  weather  " — meaning  a  friendly 
and  amicable  state  between  two  possible  antagonists.  (See 
^'  History  of  Henry  VII."     Works  VI.  pp.  61,  72). 

Shakespeare  also  has, — 

But  I  must  maka  fair  weatlier  yet  awhile 
Till  Henry  be  more  weak  and  I  more  strong. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  V.  i.  30). 


2/5  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

6g,  Baby,  meaning  a  doll,  is  found  in  both  (as  also  in 
other  Elizabethan  writers). 

"  It  was  the  part  of  children  to  fall  out  about  babies.''' 
("Henry  VII."     Works  VI.  172). 

Macbeth  says, — 

Protest  me  the  bahv  of  a  sjirl. 

{Macb.  III.  iv.  105). 

70.  Bacon  says  of  disloyal  subjects  of  a  king  that  "they 
stand  in  his  danger.'"     ("Henry  VII."     Works  VI.  36). 

Portia  says  to  Antonio  :— 

You  stand  li'ithin  !iis  danger  do  you  not  ? 

{Men  Vcn.  IV.  i.  180). 

71.  Bacon  has  a  trick  of  using  the  word  twenty  to  express 
a  large  and  indefinite  number,  e.g.,  "As  for  Maximihan, 
upon  twenty  respects  he  could  not  have  been  the  man."' 
("Henry  VII."  Works  VI.  235).  This  is  so  frequent  in 
Shakespeare  that  anyone  may  find  instances,  e.g., — 

Twenty  of  these  puny  Hes  I'll  tell. 

{Mer.  Veil.  III.  iv.  74). 

72.  The  expression  keep  state — applied  to  the  majesty  of 
a  king  is  used  by  Bacon.  ("Henry  VII."  Works  VL 
32).     King  Henry  V.  tells  the  French  Ambassador, — 

Tell  the  Dauphin  I  will  keep  my  state, 

Be  like  a  King  and  show  my  sail  of  greatness. 

(Hen.  V.  I.  ii.  273). 

y^.  The  expression  "  abate  the  edge  of  envy  "  is  found  in 
Bacon's  gth  Essay,  of  "  Envy,"  and  in  Rich.  III.  V.  v.  35. 

74.  Bacon  says, — "  Every  vapour  or  fume  doth  not  turn 
into  a  storm."     (Essay  15).     Shakespeare  says, — 

Every  cloud  engenders  not  a  storm. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  iii.  13). 

75.  Bacon  says  that  bad  officers,  and  other  false  and 
corrupt  servants,  "  set  a  bias  upon  their  bowl  of  their  owa 


POPULAR   AND    COMMON.  277 

petty  ends  and  envies,  to  the  overthrow  of  their  master's 
great  and  important  affairs."     (Essay  23). 

Shakespeare  also  says  of  Commodity  (or  self-interest) 
that  it  is  the  "bias  of  the  world" — "this  vile  drawing 
bias."     {John  II.  ii.  574,  577). 

76.  There  is  a  strong  family  resemblance  as  well  as  a 
striking  identity  in  phraseology  between  the  following 
passages.  Bacon,  writing  to  Egerton  in  1597,  says,  "The 
place  I  have  in  reversion  is  but  like  another  man's  ground 
reaching  upon  my  house,  which  may  mend  my  prospect 
but  it  doth  not  fill  my  barn."     ("  Life  "  II.  61). 

Falstaff  and  Ford,  disguised  as  Brooke,  in  conference 
about  Brooke's  design  on  Mistress  Ford,  converse  as 
follows  : — 

Fal. — Of  what  quality  was  your  love,  then  ? 

Ford. — Like  a  fair  house  built  on  another  man's  ground,  so  that  I 

have   lost   my  edifice  by  mistaking  the  place  where  I 

erected  it. 

{Merry  Wives  II.  ii.  223). 

77.  Bacon's  references  to  popularity  are  sometimes  made 
with  a  very  technical  use  of  the  words  "  common  "  and 
"popular."  Writing  to  Essex  he  says,  "I  reckon  myself 
as  a  common  (not  popular  but  common),  and  as  much  as  is 
lawful  to  be  enclosed  of  a  common,  so  much  your  Lordship 
shall  be  sure  to  have."  Much  the  same  toying  with  the 
words  is  found  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost  II.  i.  223: — "Not  so 
gentle  beast  ;  my  lips  are  no  common,  though  several  they 
be."  Boyet  having  just  offered  to  kiss  her  and  pasture, 
like  a  sheep,  on  her  lips. 

Pistol  asks  the  disguised  King, — 

Art  thou  officer  ?     Or  art  thou  base,  common  and  popular. 

{Hen.  V.  IV.  i.  37). 

Your  sauciness  will  jest  upon  my  love 
And  make  a  common  of  my  serious  hours. 

{Com.  Er.  II.  ii.  28). 

Why  should  my  heart  think  that  a  several  plot 


278         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Which  my  heart  knows  the  wide  world's  common  place  ? 

(Sonnet  137). 

Bacon  had  a  great  aversion  to  mere  popularity,  and 
Shakespeare  shared  the  same  aversion. 

"  Let  mihtary  persons  be  assured  and  well  reputed  of, 
rather  than  factious  and  popular."  (Essay  of  "  Seditions  "). 

"A  popular  judge  is  a  deformed  thing,  and  plaudites  are 
fitter  for  players  than  for  magistrates."     ("  Life  "  VL  211). 

King  Henry  reproaches  his  son  that  he  had,  like  Richard, 
"enfeoff'd  himself  to  popularity."  (i  Hen.  IV.  111.  ii.  69). 
And  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  refers  to  the  prince 
before  he  ascended  the  throne,  as  having  associated  with 
"Companies  unlettered,  rude  and  shallow,"  and  never 
noted  for  "any  sequestration  from  open  haunts  and  popu- 
larity."    (Hen  V.  I.  i.  55). 

78.  Bacon  frequently  refers  to  Adrian  as  "the  most  curious 
man  that  ever  hved  and  the  most  universal  enquirer,  inso- 
much as  it  was  noted  for  an  error  in  his  mind,  that  he 
desired  to  comprehend  all  things,  and  not  to  reserve  him- 
self for  the  worthiest  things.  Falling  into  the  like  humour 
that  was  long  before  noted  in  Philip  of  Macedon,  who 
when  he  would  needs  overrule  and  put  down  an  excellent 
musician  in  an  argument  touching  music,  was  well 
answered  by  him  again,  '  God  forbid,  Sir,'  saith  he,  'that 
your  fortune  should  be  so  bad  as  to  know  these  things 
better  than  L'"     (Works  IH.  230.     Apop.  159). 

The  same  story  was  evidently  present  to  the  poet  of 
Love's  Labour's  Lost.  Biron,  the  aristocrat,  and  Costard, 
the  clown,  disputing  about  the  number  of  actors  to  be 
employed  in  acting,  Biron  says. 

By  Jove,  I  always  took  three  threes  for  nine. 
Costard. — O  Lord,  Sir,  it  were  pity  you  should  get  \-our  living  by 


reckoning,  Sir  ! 


(Love's  Labour's  Lost  V.  ii.  493). 


The   special    occupation   referred   to   in   connection   with 
reckoning  is  that  of  a  tapster,  elsewhere  thus  noted  : — 


A   BACONIAN   ESSAY.  2/9 

I  am  ill  at  reckoning ;  it  fits  the  spirit  of  a  tapster. 

{Love's  Laboiti's  Lost  I.  ii.  42). 

And  in  many  other  places  reckoning  and  the  occupation  of 
a  tapster  are  associated,  as  a  mean  occupation. 

79.  Timon  of  Athens  appears  to  reflect  the  sense  of  injury 
and  misfortune  which  Bacon  felt  after  his  fall.  In  1622  he 
wrote  to  the  Lord  Treasurer,  "Your  Lordship  hath  great- 
ness, and  I  hope  you  will  line  it  with  goodness."  ("  Life  " 
Vn.  396). 

We  can  hear  an  echo  of  this  in  the  appeal  of  Alcibiades  : 

O  my  lords, 
As  you  are  great,  be  pitifully  good. 

{Timon  III.  v.  51). 

80.  One  of  the  rules  which  Bacon  lays  down  in  his  Essay 
on  "Travel,"  for  Travellers  is,  "Let  him  sequester  him- 
self from  the  company  of  his  countrymen,  and  diet  in  such 
places  where  there  is  good  company  of  the  nation  where  he 
travelleth."  Rosalind  gives  Jacques  similar  advice,  as  he 
IS  taking  his  departure  : — 

Farewell,  Monsieur  Traveller.  Look  you  lisp,  and  wear  strange 
suits  ;  disable  all  the  benefits  of  your  own  country  ;  be  out  of  love 
with  your  nativity. — As  You  Like  It  IV.  i.  32. 

To  all  these,  which  might  be  almost  indefinitely 
multiplied,  let  me  give  a  specimen  of  "Baconian  thought 
in  Baconian  language."  The  following  might  easily  be 
added  to  Bacon's  Essays.  As  Falstaff  is  speaking,  there  is 
necessarily  a  jesting  colour  in  the  words  ;  but  if  the  levity 
were  eliminated,  I  defy  anyone  to  distinguish  the  style 
from  that  of  the  Essays.  Mr.  Justice  Shallow's  behaviour 
is  the  topic  : — 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  thing  (i)  to  see  the  semblable  coherence  of  his 
men's  spirits  and  his  :  they,  by  observing  of  him,  do  bear  themselves 
like  foolish  justices  ;  he,  by  conversing  with  them,  is  turned  into  a 
ustice-like  serving-man.  (2)  Their  spirits  are  so  married  in  con- 
unction  with  the  participation  (3)  of  society,  that  they  Hock  together 
in  concent  (4)  like  so  many  wild  geese.     If  I  had  a  suit  to  Master 


280         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Shallow,  I  would  humour  his  men  with  the  imputation  of  being  near 
their  master  :  if  to  his  men  I  would  curry  with  Master  Shallow  that 
no  man  could  better  command  his  servants.  (5)  It  is  certain  (6) 
that  either  wise  bearing  or  ignorant  carriage  is  caught,  as  men  take 
diseases  (7)  one  of  another.  Therefore  (8),  let  men  take  heed  of 
their  company."     (2  Hen.  IV.  v.  i.  near  the  end). 

1.  //  is  a  wonderful  thing, — Bacon's  often  recurring 
phrase,  It  is  strange. 

2.  "To  attain  good  forms  of  behaviour,  it  almost 
sufficeth  not  to  despise  them  ;  for  so  shall  a  man  observe 
them  in  others,  and  let  him  trust  himself  with  the  rest." 
Essay  of  "Ceremonies."  See  also  the  letter  to  Rutland, 
Vol.  II.,  and  the  whole  of  chap.  VIII.  Bacon's  "Sartor 
Resartus," 

3.  "In  manners  or  behaviour  3'our  Lordship  must  not 
be  .  .  .  infected  with  custom,  which  makes  us  keep  our 
own  ill  graces,  and  participate  of  those  we  see  every  day." 
("Life"  II.  10).  The  same  idea  is  repeated  in  many 
passages  in  Shakespeare.     Ex.  gr. : — 

Did  I  but  suspect  a  fearful  man, 
He  should  have  leave  to  go  away  betimes, 
Lest,  in  our  need,  he  might  infect  another, 
And  make  him  of  like  spirit  to  himself. 

(3  Hen.  17.  V.  iv.  see  39 — 49). 

4.  Concent, — vocal  unison.  "  In  concent,  where  tongue- 
strings,  not  heart-strings  make  the  music,  that  harmony 
may  end  in  discord."     ("  Life  "  IV.  177). 

5.  "  If  you  would  work  any  man,  you  must  either  know 
his  nature  or  his  fashions,  and  so  lead  him  ;  or  his  ends, 
and  so  persuade  him  ;  ...  or  those  that  have  interest  in 
him,  and  so  govern  him." 

"Timing  of  that  suit  is  the  principal  thing:  timing,  I 
say,  not  only  in  respect  of  the  person  who  should  grant  it, 
but  in  respect  of  those  who  are  likely  to  cross  it." 

"Let  a  man  in  the  choice  of  his  mean  rather  choose  the 
fittest  mean  than  the  greatest  mean." 


CERTAINLY,    AND    ITS    VARIATIONS.  281 

See,  throughout,  the  Essays  of  "Negotiation,"  and  of 
"  Suitors." 

6.  It  is  certain.  The  most  superficial  reader  of  Bacon's 
Essays  must  have  noticed  how  frequently  this  phrase 
occurs.  Certainly,  or,  It  is  certain,  is  found  67  times  in 
40  of  the  Essays.  Variations  of  this  phrase  are  abundant. 
Such  phrases  as  the  following  occur  over  120  times  : — 
Without  all  question.  Out  of  question.  There  is  no 
question.  It  is  a  safe  conclusion.  It  is  manifest.  It  is 
often  seen.  It  is  commonly  seen.  This  never  fails.  No 
doubt.   It  cannot  be  denied.   Indeed.    It  is  an  assured  sign. 

This  trick  of  composition  is  so  excessively  used  as,  it 
seems  to  me,  to  amount  to  a  fault, — the  one  solitary 
blemish  in  a  peerless,  perfect  style. 

Precisely  the  same  trick  is  found  in  Shakespeare,  and 
that  with  other  variations. 

The  two  phrases,  It  is  certain,  and.  That's  infallible,  occur 
close  together  in  a  rather  unquotable  passage  in  Measure 
for  Measure  III.  ii.  107. 

The  trick  runs  riot  in  such  a  speech  as  "  Yes,  certainly, 
and  out  of  doubt,  and  out  of  question  too,  and 
ambiguities."  Hen.  V.  V.  i.  41, — spoken  by  the  some- 
what pedagogic  Welshman,  Fluellen. 

The  same  rather  sportive  tossing  about  of  these 
Baconian  phrases  is  seen  in  the  following  : — 

Therefore  be  out  of  liope,  of  question,  of  doubt, 
Be  certain  ;  nothing  truer  ;  'tis  no  jest 
That  I  do  hate  thee  and  love  Helena. 

{M.N.D.  III.  ii.  279). 

The  first  scene  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice  has  the  phrases 
"Out  of  doubt  "  (twice  i.  20,  155)  "  I  am  very  sure"  (97). 
"Questionless"  (176)  and  "no  question"  (184). 

The  phrase  must  crop  up,  even  if  it  is  twisted  into 
caricature.     Here  are  some  variations  : — 

It  is,  in  contempt  of  question,  her  hand. 

{Twelfth  Xight  II.  v.  97). 


282         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Aye  surely,  mere  the  truth. 

{All's  Well  III.  V.  58). 

Truly  to  speak,  and  with  no  addition. 

{Ham.  IV.  iv.  17). 

Out  of  question,  so  it  is  sometimes. 

{Love's  Labours  Lost  IV.  i.  30). 

To  sax  the  tntth. 

{Cor.  IV.  vi.  143). 

His  fears  out  of  doubt  be  of  the  same  relish  as  ours  are. 

{Hen.  V.  IV.  i.  113). 

I  should  questionless  be  fortunate. 

{Mer.  V.l.i.  176). 

That  ever  holds. 

{Mer.  F.  II.  vi.  8). 

These  phrases  in  Shakespeare  impart  a  heaviness  to  the 
style  which  is  characteristic  of  Bacon's,  when  he  is  most 
severe  and  didactic.  So  far  as  my  reading  of  Elizabethan 
literature  goes,  the  same  phrases,  habitually  employed,  are 
not  to  be  found  in  any  other  writer. 

7.  The  ethical  therefore — announcing  a  conclusion,  not 
of  logic,  but  of  morals  or  prudence,  is  Bacon's  habitual 
formula  in  passing  from  theory  or  observation  to  practice, 
or  morals. 

It  would  be  easy  to  quote  other  specimens  of  Baconian 
Essays,  but  this  may  suffice.  It  seems  to  me  absolutely 
impossible  for  anyone  but  Bacon  to  have  written  the  Essay 
on  "  Behaviour,"  which  I  have  quoted.  Falstaff's  Essay 
on  "  Sack  "  is  equally  Baconian.  2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iii.  In 
fact,  in  the  purely  intellectual  side  of  his  nature,  Falstaff 
and  Bacon  resemble  one  another — are  like  twin  brothers, 
one  of  whom  is  wild,  the  other  steady. 

For  a  Shakespearean  specimen  of  Bacon's  Antitheta— 
such  as  are  given  in  great  abundance  in  De  Aug.  VI.  iii., — 
take  the  following  : — 


ANTITHETA. 


283 


Grief  in  Misfortune. 


Agamst. 

1.  Grief,  which  rests  on  hope 
of  remedy,  ceases  when  we  know 
the  worst. 

2.  Lamentation  for  what  is 
past  is  the  most  likely  way  of 
bringing  on  new  calamity. 

3.  When  fortune  takes  what 
cannot  be  preserved,  patience 
makes  a  mockery  of  the  injury. 

4.  The  man  who  is  robbed,  and 
yet  remains  cheerful,  steals  from 
the  thief  who  has  robbed  him. 

5.  By  a  useless  expenditure  of 
grief,  a  man  robs  himself. 


(6.  Excessive  grief  for  the  dead 
is  an  enemy  to  the  living). 


For. 


1.  Smiling  at  a  loss  does  not 
recover  what  is  lost. 

2.  One  who  is  sentenced  hears 
more  than  the  gratuitous  senti- 
ments of  consolation  which  ac- 
company the  sentence. 

3.  If  much  patience  is  neces- 
sary, the  pains  of  patience  are 
added  to  the  sorrows  of  the 
penalty. 

4.  Words  of  comfort  are  either 
sweet  as  sugar,  or  bitter  as  gall, 
according  as  they  are  taken. 

5.  There  is  no  comfort  in  mere 
words  ; — the  bruises  of  the  heart 
cannot  be  reached  through  the 
ear. 

(6.  Moderate  lamentation  is 
the  right  of  the  dead). 


This  group  may  be  compared  with  the  speeches  of  the 
Duke  and  of  Brabantio  in  Othello  I.  iii.  202.  (See  also 
AWs  Well  I.  i.  48). 

There  is  a  small  but  very  characteristic  set  on  Fear :  — 
This  is  scarcely  altered  from  Tro.  Crcs.  III.  ii.  66-72. 


Pro. 

1.  Blind  fear,  that  seeing  rea- 
son leads,  fmds  safer  footing  than 
blind  reason,  stumbling  witliout 
fear. 

2,  To  fear  the  worst  often  cures 
the  worse. 


Con. 

I.  Fear  makes  devils  of  cheru- 
bins  ;  they  never  see  clearly. 


2.  Apprehend  no  fear.  In  all 
Cupid's  pageant  there  is  pre- 
sented no  monster. 


Mr.  Spedding  says: — "I  doubt  whether  there  are  five 


284  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    HACONIAN    LIGHT. 

lines  together  which  are  to  be  found  in  Bacon  which  could 
be  mistaken  for  Shakespeare,  or  five  lines  in  Shakespeare 
which  could  be  mistaken  for  Bacon  by  one  who  was 
familiar  with  the  several  styles,  and  practised  in  such 
observation." 

Well,  granting  that  Bacon's  style  of  writing  morals  and 
science  and  philosophy  was  not  likely  to  resemble  that  of 
any  play  writer,  I  think  the  moral  Essay  from  2  Henry  IV. 
V.  i.,  which  I  have  quoted,  contains  more  than  live  hues 
which  might  easily  be  taken  for  Bacon  masquerading  as  a 
merry  and  jesting  knight.  This  is  a  test  which  may  be 
within  certain  limits  accepted,  but  it  need  not  be  pushed 
to  the  extreme  of  mistaking  one  for  the  other.  Bacon 
pleading  in  court  and  Bacon  speaking  in  Parliament  or 
writing  the  Novum  Organum  might  easily  be  taken  not  to 
be  the  same  man.  These  styles  are  quite  as  different  as 
either  from  Shakespeare,  and  yet  there  is  no  difficulty 
in  accepting  all  as  belonging  to  one  man.  If  the  test 
is  fairly  used,  I  contend  that  there  are  plenty  of 
prose  passages  in  Bacon  and  plenty  of  verse  or 
prose  in  Shakespeare,  which  for  stateliness  of  language, 
affluence  of  thought,  elevation  of  sentiment,  depth  of 
meaning,  felicity  of  metaphor,  sparkle  of  antithesis  and 
general  force  and  beauty  of  style,  are  equally  characteristic 
of  both  writers,  assuming  the  separation.  Hotspur's  speech 
at  the  beginning  of  i  Henry  IV.  II.  iii.  is  a  case  in  point, 
and  there  are  many  passages  in  Bacon  which,  by  a  little 
lawful  manipulation,  may  easily  be  turned  into  good 
Shakespearean  verse.  The  whole  Essay  of  "  Adversity  " 
might  be  thus  presented, — and  has  been.  (See  Paper  by  the 
Author  on  "  Bacon  as  a  Poet,"  Trans,  of  Royal  Soc.  of 
Lit,,  Feb,  1893).  There  is  a  good  deal  of  Baconian  prose 
in  the  speeches  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  2  Hen.  IV.   I.  ii. 

There  is  a  great  collection  of  Antitheta,  spoken 
antiphonall}^  by  Gaunt  and  Bolingbroke,  in  reference  to 
Bolingbroke's  banishment  ;  Gaunt  speaks  on  the  pro  side  ; 
his  son  on  the  contra.     (See  Rich.  II.  I.  iii.  258,  &c.). 


ANTITHETA    ON    BANISHMENT. 


28  = 


Pro. 

1 .  Thy  grief  is  but  thy  absence 
for  a  time. 

2.  What  is  six  winters  ?  they 
are  quickly  gone. 

3.  Call  it  a  travel  which  thou 
takest  for  pleasure. 

4.  The  sullen  passage  of  thy 
weary  steps  I'  Esteem  as  foil, 
wherein  thou  art  to  set  !|  The 
precious  jewel  of  ih}'  home 
return. 

5.  All  places  tliat  the  eye  of 
heaven  visits  ;|  Are  to  the  wise 
man  ports  and  happy  havens. 

6.  There  is  no  virtue  like 
necessity. 

7.  Think  not  the  King  doth 
banish  thee  [   But  thou  the  King. 

8.  Love  doth  the  heavier  sit  'j 
Where  it  perceives  it  is  but 
faintly  borne. 

9.  Go,  say  I  sent  thee  forth  to 
purchase  honour  ]|  And  not  the 
King  exiled  thee. 

10.  Suppose  devouring  pestil- 
ence hangs  in  our  air  |i  And  thou 
art  flying  to  a  fresher  clime. 

11.  Look,  what  thy  soul  holds 
dear,  imagine  it  f  To  be  that  way 
thou  gocst,  nor  whence  thou 
comest. 

12.  Gnarling  sorrow  hath  less 
power  to  bite  !;  The  man  that 
mocks  at  it,  and  sets  it  light. 


Con. 

1.  Joy  absent,  grief  is  present 
for  that  time. 

2.  To  men  in  joy  : — but  grief 
makes  one  hour  ten. 

3.  My  heart  will  sigh  when  I 
miscall  it  so,  I[  Which  finds  it  an 
enforced  pilgrimage. 

4.  Nay,  rather  every  tedious 
stride  I  make  i|  Will  but  remem- 
ber me,  what  a  deal  of  world,  i| 
I  wander  from  the  jewels  that  I 
love. 

5.  O  who  can  hold  a  lire  in  his 
hand  [j  By  thinking  on  the  frosty 
Caucasus. 

6.  The  apprehension  of  the 
good  [i  Gives  but  the  greater 
feeling  to  the  worse. 

7.  Fell  sorrow's  tooth  doth 
never  rankle  more  •'■  Than  when 
he  bites,  but  lanceth  not  the  sore.. 


286 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE   SCHOLARSHIP   OF   SHAKESPEARE. 

The  classic  knowledge  and  the  classic  diction  of  Shake- 
speare have  caused  much  perplexity  to  his  critics  and 
biographers.  That  such  a  classic  element  exists — classic 
learning,  and  even  more  obviously,  a  classic  aroma,  a 
flavour  or  tone  distinctive  of  classic  culture,  not  to  be 
otherwise  acquired — is  obvious  to  the  most  superficial 
observer,  and  becomes  increasingly  evident  as  the  poems 
are  more  carefully  studied.  The  perplexity  thus  occasioned 
is  shown  by  the  contradictory  ways  m  which  the  classic 
element  is  treated.  Some  critics,  such  as  Richard  Grant 
White,  Cowden  Clarke,  and  Charles  Knight,  frankly 
acknowledge  it,  and  do  not  profess  to  explain  it,  or 
attempt  to  explain  it  away.  Other  critics,  such  as  Leigh 
Hunt  and  Professor  Baines,  admit  it  and  seek  to  account 
for  it.     Others  deny  it  altogether. 

Leigh  Hunt  makes  no  attempt  to  resist  the  proof  of 
Shakespeare's  learning,  and  thinks  that  Milton,  singing  of 
"native  wood-notes  wild  "  issuing  from  "sweetest  Shake- 
speare fancy's  child,"  spoke  "without  due  reflection;"  the 
words  were,  he  thinks,  "  hastily  said  by  a  learned  man  of  an 
unlearned."  It  is  true,  however,  that  Leigh  Hunt  accepts 
the  current  notions  of  Shakespeare's  education  :  in  his  time 
they  had  not  been  questioned,  and  consequently  he  is 
betrayed  into  an  absurdity  as  gross  as  Milton's.  "Shake- 
speare," he  says,  "though  he  had  not  a  College  education, 
was  as  learned  as  any  man,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word, 
— by  a  scholarly  intuition  ;  he  had  the  spirit  of  learning." 

It    is    strange   how    inevitably    the   wisest   critics, — for 


SHAKESPEARE   NOT    FANCY'S    CHILD.  287 

among  these  we  must  reckon  Leigh  Hunt — talk  in  a  self- 
contradictory  and  irrational  way  when  they  attempt  to 
account  for  Shakespeare's  scholarship,  while  admitting  that 
he  had  not  much  education.  One  would  like  to  know  the 
exact  process  of  becoming  "learned  by  scholarly  intuition ;" 
and  what  this  exactly  means.  The  psychology  of  the  case 
is  somewhat  obscure.  Somehow  it  seems  to  be  implied 
that  there  is  some  method  by  which  all  the  results  of  classic 
scholarship  can  be  acquired  without  the  scholarship  itself. 

Leigh  Hunt  proceeds:  "He  could  anticipate  Milton's 
own  Greek  and  Latin — 

"Tortive  and  errant  from  his  course  of  growth." 
"The  multitudinous  seas  incarnadine." 
"A  pudency  so  rosy,"  etc. 

"  In  fact,  if  Shakespeare's  poetry  has  any  fault  it  is  that 
of  being  too  learned,  too  over-informed  with  thought  and 
allusion.  His  '  wood-notes  wild  '  surpass  Haydn  and  Bach. 
His  wild  roses  were  all  twenty  times  double."  This  is,  of 
course,  excellent  criticism,  and  completely  disposes  of 
Milton's  uncritical  lines. 

The  poet  most  assuredly  was  no  untutored  child  of 
nature,  but  a  scholar  and  a  man  of  the  world — not  an 
unconscious,  spontaneous  warbler  of  wild  wood-notes,  but 
the  accomplished  performer  on  a  vast  and  complicated 
instrument,  governing  all  the  stops,  and  manuals,  and 
pedals  of  a  mighty  organ,  capable  of  gentlest  diapason  or 
resounding  peals — now  whispering  the  softest  and  simplest 
flute-notes  of  Arcady,  now  thundering  forth  in  majestic 
trumpet  tones  the  largest  themes  of  the  great  world, — the 
music  alternately  swelling  and  subsiding,  as  joy  and  sad- 
ness, laughter  and  tears,  passion  and  aspiration,  youth  and 
age,  pour  forth  their  appropriate  melodies  and  harmonies: 
always  indeed  in  touch  with  Nature,  but  always  giving 
most  perfect  utterances  to  the  choicest  themes  of  refined 
and  cultivated  art. 

According  to  Professor  Baines,   the  ordinary  grammar 


288         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

schools  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  little  classic 
Academes,  where  favoured  students  acquired  the  choicest 
culture  that  could  be  derived  from  the  rarest  fruits  of 
ancient  history,  poetry,  and  philosophy.      Crcdat  Judausl 

Other  critics — and  the  large  majority — deny  scholarship 
altogether,  and  endeavour  to  explain  away  the  apparent 
indications  of  it.  The  classic  tone  and  diction  are  not  to  be 
accounted  for  except  by  drawing  upon  the  infinite  capa- 
bilities and  possibilities  of  genius,  whose  shoulders  are 
supposed  to  be  broad  enough  to  bear,  like  Atlas,  not  only 
the  round  world,  but  all  the  fulness  thereof,  including 
Alexandrine,  Bodleian,  and  British  Museum  libraries. 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that  so  sane  and  well- 
informed  an  annotator  as  Cowden  Clarke  should  resort  to 
this  theory  of  quasi  supernaturalism  in  accounting  for  the 
learning  of  Shakespeare.      In  commenting  on  the  words — 

The  ruddy  drops  that  visit  my  sad  lieart, 

[Jul  Cms.  II.  i.  289) 

this  learned  and  sagacious  critic  says: — 

"  It  has  been  said  that  in  these  glowing  words  Shake- 
speare has  anticipated  Harvey's  discovery  of  the  circulation 
of  the  blood,  which  was  made  in  1608.  The  poet's 
intuition  taught  him  many  secrets  of  nature  as  yet  un- 
promulgated by  science  to  the  world,  as  well  as  many  of 
those  known  only  to  adepts  in  their  several  branches  of 
science;  and  that  he  had  intuitive  perception  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  blood's  course  through  the  body,  witness  not 
only  the  present  passage,  but  also  that  gloriously  expressive 
one  \n  Alcas.  Mcas.  II.  iv.,  where  Anglo  exclaims:  'Oh, 
heavens  !  why  does  my  blood  thus  muster  to  my  heart  ? '  " 
etc.*     So  far  as  classic  knowledge  is  explained,  it  might  be 

'-  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowden  Clarke  had  a 
shrewd  suspicion,  which  they  would  not  distinctly  express,  that  the 
Stratford  rustic  was  not  the  real  Shakespeare.  See  their  note  to  the 
passage  in  Mcas.  Mcas.  III.  i.  118 — quoted  in  Chap.  XIV., — under  the 
section  Delated. 


UNIVERSITY    EDUCATION.  289 

supposed  that  this  appeal  to  the  wonder-working  powers 
of  genius  might  supersede  all  other  explanations.  But  it 
is  not  so.  The  classic  knowledge  which  cannot  be 
attributed  to  creative  genius, — since  what  is  once  created 
cannot  be  created  over  again,  even  by  the  omnipotence  of 

Ay,  but  to  die,  and  go  we  know  not  where 

.  .  .  The  delated  [instead  of  delighted]  spirit,  &c. 

One  of  the  reasons  for  preferring  delated  is  Bacon's  use  of  the 
same  word. 

A  still  more  significant  note  is  found  in  their  commentary  on  the 
following  passage  : — 

Shallow.— By  yea  and  nay,  sir,  I  daresay  my  cousin  William  is 
become  a  good  scholar;  he  is  at  Oxford  still,  is  he  not  ? 
Silence. — Indeed,  sir,  to  my  cost. 

S!talhu\ — He  must  then  to  the  Inns  of  Court  shortly. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  III.  ii.  10). 
On  this  Cowden  Clarke  remarks  : — 

"  This  passage  shows  that  a  University  education  was  a  usual  pre- 
paratory step  in  studying  at  one  or  other  of  the  Inns  of  Court,  and 
it  gives  ground  to  our  belief  that  very  probably  Shakespeare  may 
have  been  a  collegian  at  one  of  the  Universities,  and  may  have  sub- 
sequently kept  terms  at  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court.  Still,  however,  we 
are  willing  to  allow  that  with  one  of  his  miraculous  ability  [always 
miraculous  !]  in  availing  himself  of  knowledge  acquired  through 
intercourse  with  others,  it  would  have  sufficed  him  to  be  acquainted 
with  young  men  who  had  thus  studied  at  College  and  at  an  Inn  of 
Court  to  become  versed  in  many  particulars  known  to  them  by  their 
experience." 

Obviously  a  keen  observer  and  good  listener  might  learn  as  much 
as  this  passage  indicates  of  the  sequence  of  law  study  and  Univer- 
sity study.  But  if  so,  why  suggest  that  Shakespeare  himself  had 
passed  through  the  double  curriculum  ?  The  extreme  improbabilit}' 
of  William  Shakespeare's  having  ever  studied  either  at  Oxford  or 
at  any  school  of  law  must  have  been  obvious  to  these  very  learned 
Shakespeareans.  Clearly  the  necessity  for  university  training  is  forced 
upon  the  commentator  by  the  learning  in  classics  shown  by  the 
dramatist,  the  accuracy  and  extent  of  which  is  frequently  noted  b}- 
Cowden  Clarke.  See  also  Notes  quoted  in  the  sections  on  Conversa- 
tion,— Dissemble, — Artificial,  (Chap.  XIV.). 

V 


290         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

genius, — is  supposed  to  have  been  derived  from  translations, 
or  from  companionship  with  scholars,  or  by  a  sort  of  eaves- 
dropping overhearing  of  learned  talk,  or  from  association 
with  the  world  of  culture  and  refinement ;  and  the  aim  of 
these  critics  is  to  show  that  there  is  no  classic  knowledge 
in  Shakespeare  which  might  not  have  been  acquired  in 
some  of  these  ways. 

And  yet,  after  all,  the  actual  knowledge  we  possess  of 
William  Shakespeare,  his  life,  his  parentage,  his  ante- 
cedents, his  associates,  his  family  and  townsmen,  all  point 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  either  entirely  uneducated 
or  very  imperfectly  educated  :  that  his  Latin  was  small, 
his  Greek  less,  and  his  pure  English  least  of  all :  that  such 
handwriting  as  his  could  never  have  figured  on  a  Univer- 
sity Examination  paper;  that  his  whole  life  was  too  full  of 
business,  too  devoted  to  money,  to  leave  any  extensive 
opportunities  for  study,  or  for  large,  broad  world-covering 
experience.  So  that  the  labour  of  the  biographers  is  very 
often  devoted  to  the  very  hopeless  task  of  proving,  not 
that  he  was  a  learned  man,  but  a  very  ignorant  one.  His 
classic  knowledge  is  minimized;  his  mistakes  and  in- 
accuracies magnified;  his  classic  allusions  are  traced  to 
actual  or  presumed  translations,  or  to  contemporary  litera- 
ture. All  sorts  of  fanciful  additions  are  made  to  his 
biography.  He  was  a  schoolmaster,  a  lawyer,  a  traveller  in 
Scotland  and  Italy,  a  diligent  frequenter  of  the  law  courts; 
he  was  intimate  with  aristocrats  and  all  the  best  society  of 
his  time  (of  course,  including  Bacon);  he  spent  his  vaca- 
tions in  foreign  travel — doubtless  travelling  in  a  Pullman 
car  on  a  corridor  train  !  He  is  permitted  access  to  all  sorts 
unpublished  literature,  especially  to  MS.  translations  of 
the  classics.  North's  Plutarch  covers  a  large  tract  of 
allusion  territory;  and  whatever  conclusions  one  may  form 
respecting  the  poet's  scholarship,  there  can  be  no  difficulty 
in  recognising  his  obligations  to  translated  Plutarch  or 
other  writers,  if  the  obligation  is  clearly  indicated.  But  if 
this  is  once  admitted,  the  inference  is  instantly  made,  that 


W.    S.    CERTAINLY    NOT    A    SCHOLAR.  29I 

all  the  classic  learning  must  be  explained  in  the  same  way 
— that  if  translations  are  not  known  they  must  be  assumed 
— and  that  all  who  think  otherwise  are  to  be  excluded 
from  the  ranks  of  superior  people,  and  banished  to  the 
country  of  the  Philistines. 

Neither  the  logic  nor  the  temper  of  this  sort  of  reason- 
ing is  very  commendable.  For  while  antecedent  pro- 
babilities, and  inferences  from  known  facts  all  favour  the 
opinion  that  William  Shakspere  was  not  a  learned  man,  at 
the  same  time  the  unbiassed,  uncritical  reader  of  the  poems 
must  inevitably  conclude  that  the  Poet  was  a  learned  man, 
and  that  neither  genius,  nor  goodfellowship,  nor  cribs  can 
account  for  the  classic  element  in  his  writings.  That  a 
stage  manager  at  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  a  man 
full  of  theatrical  business, — and  no  one  knows  what  other 
money-making  pursuits, — full  also  of  domestic  cares,  with 
a  family  in  a  distant  county,  removed  from  London  by  some 
six  score  miles  and  a  three  days'  journey,  dependent  upon 
him  for  support, — a  man  brought  up  in  a  remote  country 
town,  a  bookless  district,  quite  out  of  touch  with  the  best 
intellectual  life  of  the  cultured  classes, — belonging  to  a 
family  and  a  neighbourhood  where  even  reading  and  writ- 
ing were  exceptional  accomplishments,  even  among  the 
most  respectable  and  influential  townsmen,  —  whose 
children  signed  their  name  with  a  rude  mark, — whose  own 
writing  was  so  execrably  bad,  so  unmistakably  rustic  and 
plebeian,  that  one  may  reasonably  doubt  whether  his  pen- 
manship extended  beyond  the  capability  of  signing  his 
name  to  a  business  document, — that  such  a  man  could  be 
also  a  man  of  wide  and  deep  culture,  of  varied  experience, 
with  access  not  only  to  the  best,  but  to  the  obscurest  and 
least  studied  literature  of  the  ancient  world, — all  this  seems 
absolutely  impossible.  The  arguments  used  to  traverse 
this  very  strong  presumptive  evidence  ought  to  be  very 
strong  and  well  authenticated.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
to  the  last  degree  feeble  and  fanciful  in  their  quality,  and 
.speculative  in  their  evidence,  and  are  moreover  refuted  by 


292  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

their  self  -  contradictory  and  mutually  inconsistent 
character  :  by  the  concurrent  arguments  of  some  critics  to 
shew  that  the  poet  was  not  a  learned  man,  and  of  others 
that  there  are  good  grounds  for  supposing  that  he  was. 

I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  if  there  were  no  con- 
troversial necessity  for  maintaining  that  William  Shakspere 
was  a  very  imperfectly  educated  man,  if  it  could  be  proved 
that  he  belonged  to  the  cultured  classes,  had  passed  his  life 
amidst  books  and  learned  men,  had  had  a  university  educa- 
tion and  acquired  a  complete  mastery  of  the  classic 
languages  and  literature,  and  was  able  to  read,  write, 
speak  and  think  in  Latin,  no  one  would  hesitate  to  accept 
the  very  strong  indications  of  scholarship  in  the  poems  as 
perfectly  consistent  with  such  authorship, — as  entirely 
characteristic  of  such  antecedents  and  training.  All  the 
arguments  used  to  disprove  scholarship  are  strained,  the 
forced  pleadings  for  a  foregone  conclusion,  by  an  advocate 
who  knows  that  he  has  a  weak  case,  and  that  conclusive 
evidence  in  support  of  it  does  not  exist. 

The  evidence  that  the  true  Shakespeare — the  real  author 
of  the  plays  and  poems, — was  a  classic  scholar,  is  many 
sided  and  of  various  kinds  :  and  if  his  unscholared  author- 
ship is  to  be  proved,  it  is  not  enough  to  explain  the  origin  of 
particular  passages, —  the  whole  evidence  must  be  taken 
broadly  and  comprehensively.  This  evidence  may  be 
gathered  into  four  different  classes. 

I.  First,  the  classic  allusions  must  be  considered, — 
passages  evidently  suggested  by  parallel  passages  in 
classical  writers.  These  are  very  numerous,  and  they  are 
by  no  means  confined  to  the  classic  plays, — nor  are  they 
always  essential  to  the  construction  of  the  plays  in  which 
they  occur.  They  are  not  such  a  use  of  classic  knowledge 
as  can  be  explained  by  cram  or  coaching  for  the  special 
occasion.  They  are  spontaneous  outpourings  from  a  well- 
stored  mind,  ready  to  give  out  its  wealth  at  all  times  of 
discourse, — quite  incapable  of  producing  anything  dressed 
in  a  plain  home-spun  garb, — forced  by  the  necessities  of  its. 


INDICATIONS    OF    SCHOLARSHIP.  293 

own  culture  to  supply  allusive  decoration  or  learned 
plumage.  Classic  embellishment  of  this  kind  must  be  taken 
as  a  prima  facie  indication  of  classic  scholarship  in  the 
writer. 

2.  Next,  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  classical  plays  give 
the  same  indications  as  all  the  rest,  of  classic  knowledge 
and  tone,  with  the  additional  evidence  derived  from  their 
subject  matter.  It  is,  of  course,  possible  that  the  special 
study  required,  in  order  to  collect  material  for  these  plays, 
may  have  been  undertaken  by  a  clever  student  not  other- 
wise skilled  in  classic  lore,  an  ingenious  appropriator  of  the 
information  to  be  derived  from  translations.  This  explana- 
tion, however,  is  not  easy.  After  Plutarch  has  been 
emptied  of  his  treasures,  the  mode  in  which  they  are 
appropriated  and  assimilated  shews  a  mind  familiar  with  the 
classic  region  —  not  averse  to  the  use  of  translations  in 
order  to  save  time  and  trouble,  but  quite  able  to  dispense 
with  them,  or  to  go  beyond  and  outside  of  them.  The 
classic  aroma  in  these  classic  plays  is  not  easily  accounted 
for  by  coaching  explanations. 

3.  A  good  many  instances  of  classic  construction  are  to 
be  found,^ — sentences  cast  in  grammatical  forms  not  properly 
speaking  English  at  all,  which  require  to  be  parsed  or 
construed  by  the  Latin  grammar.  Such  a  style  could  not 
have  been  acquired  by  a  mere  English  scholar.  No 
writer,  however  well-informed,  could  have  written  them 
unless  he  had  been  accustomed  to  the  use  of  the  Latin 
language  as  a  medium  of  expression  for  his  own 
thoughts,  or  had  read  extensively  and  with  facility  in 
Latin  literature. 

4.  This  kind  of  evidence  is  still  further  heightened  by 
the  frequent  use  of  Latin  words, — or  words  which,  although 
English  (perhaps  even  very  familiar  in  vernacular  usage) 
are  yet  derived  from  the  Latin,  and  are  so  used  as  to  show 
that  the  w^^iter  is  not  limited  by  their  imported  significance, 
but  can  follow  them  into  the  wider  and  more  varied  range 
of  meaning,  or  else  into  the  different  and  more  restricted 


294         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

meanings,  which  they  possess  in  their  original  form.  This 
also  is  evidence  which  cannot  be  disposed  of  by  any  appeal 
to  translations.  It  shews  that  the  writer  could  use  the  Latin 
language  as  a  mother,  or  perhaps  stepmother,  tongue, — 
could  probably  read,  write  and  think  in  it,  and  had  been 
accustomed  to  employ  it  in  all  these  ways. 

I  cannot  pretend  to  give  the  evidence  for  all  this  classic 
scholarship  in  its  entireness.  That  demanded  by  the  first 
and  second  of  these  methods  of  classic  self-expression  I 
can  but  briefly  glance  at.  Only  a  very  profound  scholar 
could  do  justice  to  these  branches  of  the  subject, —  and 
probably  no  single  critic  could  do  it  exhaustively.  To 
such  qualifications  I  make  no  pretence.  The  mass  of 
evidence  already  collected  might  occupy  a  very  consider- 
able volume.  I  will,  however,  give  specimens  of  all  these 
classes  of  evidences — and  especially  the  last,  that  depend- 
ing on  the  use  of  words  which  cannot  be  fully  explained 
without  a  reference  to  classic  usage. 

I.  First,  I  will  give  a  few  specimens  of  classic  allusion 
which  could  not  have  been  easily  introduced  by  an  un- 
learned writer  incapable  of  consulting  original  sources. 

The  writer  must  have  studied  Plato,  and  drunk  deeply  of 
Platonic  philosophy  in  the  original  sources.  Platonic 
thought  is  unmistakably  present  in  the  following 
passage : — 

The  beauty  that  is  borne  here  in  the  face 

The  bearer  knows  not,  lout  commends  itself 

To  other's  eyes  :   nor  doth  the  eye  itself, 

That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense,  behold  itself, 

Not  going  from  itself  :  but  eye  to  eye  opposed 

Salutes  each  other  with  each  other's  form  ; 

For  speculation  turns  not  to  itself, 

Till  it  hath  travell'd  and  is  mirror'd  there 

Where  it  may  see  itself.  {Tro.  Cr.  III.  iii.  103). 

On  this  passage  Richard  Grant  White  makes  the  follow- 
ing significant  comment: — "The  old  copies,  in  the  last 
line,    have    'Married   there.'      The    reading    'is   mirror'd 


PLATO'S   PHILOSOPHY.  295 

there '  was  found  on  the  margin  of  Mr.  Collier's  folio,  and 
of  Mr.  Singer's,  and  was  adopted  in  my  first  edition.  This 
was  done  upon  the  merits  of  the  emendation  alone :  it 
seems  to  be  required.  But  it  is  confirmed,  made  impera- 
tive, it  would  seem,  by  the  following  passage  in  Plato's 
First  Alcibiades  ;  which,  however,  I  bring  forward  here,  not 
chiefly  for  that  purpose,,  but  to  direct  attention  to  a 
similarity  of  thought  and  expression  between  it  and 
Achilles'  speech,  which  seems  quite  inexplicable  except  on 
the  supposition  that  Shakespeare  was  acquainted  with 
what  Plato  wrote.  '  We  may  take  the  analogy  of  the  eye. 
The  eye  sees  not  itself,  but  from  some  other  thing,  for 
instance,  a  mirror.  But  the  eye  can  see  itself  also  by 
reflection  in  another  eye  ;  not  by  looking  at  any  other  part 
of  a  man,  but  at  the  eye  only.'  Whewell,  in  his  note  on 
this  passage,  commends  its  beauty,  but  makes  no  allusion 
to  the  passage  in  Troilus  and  Cressida  in  which  the  self- 
same thought  is  expressed."  It  occurs  also  in  Julius 
CcBsar : — 

Brutus. — No,  Cassius,  for  the  eye  sees  not  thyself, 

But  by  reflection, — by  some  other  things." 

{Jul.  CiVS.  I.  ii.  52). 

This  is  a  most  interesting  criticism,  and  I  think  it  might 
have  been  strengthened  by  the  addition  of  other  lines  from 
the  same  colloquy  between  Brutus  and  Cassius.  To  this 
speech  by  Brutus,  Cassius  responds  : — 

'Tis  just  : 
And  it  is  very  much  lamented,  Brutus, 
That  you  have  no  such  mirrors  as  will  turn 
Your  hidden  worthiness  into  your  eye, 
That  you  might  see  your  shadow  .  .  . 
And  since  you  know  you  cannot  see  yourself 
So  well  as  by  reflection,  I,  your  glass, 
Will  modestly  discover  to  yourself 
That  of  yourself  which  you  yet  know  not  of. 

(//).  54—70). 

The   resemblance   between    Plato    and   Shakespeare   is 


2g6         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

evidently  perfect ;  and  as  Plato  was  not  translated  when 
Shakespeare  was  living,  the  conclusion  is  almost  forced 
upon  us  that  the  poet  must  have  read  Plato  in  the 
original  Greek. 

Every  reader  of  Bacon  must  be  familiar  with  his 
frequent  use  of  the  symbolism  derived  from  a  mirror  or  a 
glass.  It  is  constantly  repeated  :  one  specimen  may 
suffice.  Commenting  on  the  proverb,  which  he  freely 
translates  (and  more) — "  As  the  face  is  reflected  in  the 
water,  so  is  the  heart  of  man  manifest  to  the  wise,"  he 
remarks: — "  This  comparison  of  the  mind  of  a  wise  man 
to  a  glass  is  the  more  proper ;  because  in  a  glass  he  can 
see  his  own  image  together  with  the  images  of  others, 
which  the  eye  itself  without  a  glass  cannot  do."  {De  Aug. 
Lib.  VIII.  cap.  ii.  Works  V.  55). 

The  same  imagery  is  constant  in  Shakespeare :  the 
Platonic  idea  pervades  the  24th  Sonnet. 

Mine  eye  hath  play'd  the  painter,  and  hath  stell'd 
Thy  beauty's  form  in  table  of  my  heart 

Mine  eyes  have  drawn  thv  shape,  and  thine  for  me 
Are  windows  to  ni}-  breast,  wliere-through  the  sun 
Delights  to  peep,  to  gaze  therein  on  thee. 

The  same  Platonic  philosophy  is  seen  in  the  following  : — 

'Tis  not  her  glass,  but  you,  that  flatters  her ; 
And  out  of  you  she  sees  herself  more  proper 
Than  any  of  her  lineaments  can  shew  her. 

{As  You  Like  It  III.  V.  54). 

— the  sentiment  of  which  is  identical  with  that  of  the 
Essay  of  "  Love."  "  For,  whereas  it  hath  been  well  said 
that  the  arch-flatterer,  with  whom  all  the  petty  flatterers 
have  intelligence,  is  a  man's  self,  certainly  the  lover  is  more. 
For  there  was  never  a  proud  man  thought  so  absurdly  well 
of  himself  as  the  lover  doth  of  the  person  loved." 

This,  however,  is  not  the  only  Platonic  reflection  which 
has  been  found  in  Shakespeare.     In  Hen.  V.  I.  ii.  180 — 213, 


PLATO.       CICERO.       ST.    AUGUSTINE.  2g7 

there  is  a  most  profound  and  philosophic  discussion  of  the 
mutual  dependence  of  different  offices  and  functions  in  a 
government,  which  is  compared  to  the  structure  of  a 
harmonic  combination  in  music  ;  and  to  the  mutual  sub- 
ordination of  honey  bees  in  their  Republic.  This  idea  is 
taken  from  a  portion  of  Cicero's  long  lost  treatise  De 
Repnhlicd,  a  fragment  of  which  is  preserved  by  St. 
Augustine.  Charles  Knight,  in  his  note  on  the  Hen.  V. 
passage  says : — 

"The  words  of  Cicero,  to  which  the  lines  in  Shake- 
speare have  so  close  a  resemblance,  form  part  of  a  frag- 
ment of  that  portion  of  his  lost  treatise  De  Rcpublicd,  which 
is  preserved  for  us  only  in  the  writings  of  St.  Augustine. 
The  first  question  therefore  is, — Had  Shakespeare  read  the 
fragment  in  St.  Augustine  ?  But  Cicero's  De  Republicd  was, 
so  far  as  we  know,  an  adaptation  of  Plato's  Republic. 
The  sentence  we  have  quoted  is  almost  literally  to  be 
found  in  Plato  ;  and,  what  is  still  more  curious,  the  lines 
of  Shakespeare  are  more  deeply  imbued  with  Platonic 
philosophy  than  the  passage  of  Cicero.  .  .  .  They 
develop  unquestionably  the  great  Platonic  doctrine  of  the 
Tri-unity  of  the  three  great  principles  in  man  with  the 
idea  of  a  State.  The  particular  passage  in  Plato's 
Republic  to  which  we  refer  is  in  Book  IV.,  and  may  be 
thus  rendered: — *  It  is  not  alone  wisdom  and  strength 
which  makes  a  State  simply  wise  and  strong,  but  it  {i.e., 
order),  like  that  harmony  called  the  diapason,  is  diffused 
throughout  the  whole  State,  making  both  the  weakest  and 
the  strongest  and  the  middling  people  concent  in  the  same 
melody.'  Again: — 'The  harmonic  power  of  political 
justice  is  the  saine  as  that  musical  concent  which  connects 
the  three  cords,  the  octave,  the  bass  and  the  fifth."  There 
was  no  translation  of  Plato  in  Shakespeare's  time,  except 
a  single  dialogue  by  Spenser. 

The  discussion  in  Hen.  V.  is  thus  introduced  :  — 

For  government,  though  high  and  low  and  lower, 
Put  into  parts,  doth  keep  in  one  concent 


298  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Coii^rcciiig  in  a  full  and  natural  close, 

Like  music.  (Hen.  V.  I.  ii.  180). 

The  same  tripartite  musical  analogy  is  expressed  in  : — 

Mark  how  one  string,  sweet  husband  to  another, 

Strikes  each  in  each  by  mutual  ordering  ; 

Resembling  sire  and  child  and  happy  mother, 

Who  all  in  one,  one  pleasing  note  do  sing. 

(Son.  8). 

The  musical  analogy  is  a  favourite  one  with  Bacon,  and 
enters  into  his  Philosophia  prima  : — "  Is  not  the  trope  of 
music,  to  avoid  a  slide  from  the  close,  or  cadence,  common 
with  the  trope  of  rhetoric,  of  deceiving  expectation."  See 
De  Aug.  Ill,  i,     Nov.  Org.  II.  27.     Syl.  Syl.  113,  &c. 

There  are  some  excellent  Platonic  touches  in  the  cele- 
brated moonlight  scene  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice.  Thus, 
of  the  celestial  harmonies,  the  poet  declares  : — 

Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it, 

{Men  V.  V.  i.  63). 

The  small  pronoun  it  is  here  all-important.  It  is  not 
the  soul  which  is  closed  up  in  a  muddy  vesture  of  decay, — 
that  is  almost  invariably  the  interpretation  put  upon  these 
exquisite  lines, — the  muddy  vesture  closes  in  celestial 
harmony,  so  that  the  soul  itself  cannot  hear  the  music  shut 
up  in  its  own  essence.  The  soul  is  a  repository  of  hidden, 
inexpressible,  unrevealed  knowledge  or  music. 

Bacon  tells  us  that  this  idea  is  Plato's.  He  is,  he  says, 
inclined  to  Plato's  opinion,  "  that  the  mind  of  man  by 
nature  knoweth  all  things,  and  hath  put  her  own  native 
and  original  notions  (which  by  the  strangeness  and  dark- 
ness of  this  tabernacle  of  the  body  are  sequestered)  again 
revived  and  restored."  ("Advancement  of  Learning." 
Dedication.     Works  III.  262). 

Another  Platonic  echo  is  pointed  out  in  Chap.  IX.  sect. 
14,  p.  ib2,  in  a  comment  on  Juliet's  words, — 


CLASSIC    ALLUSIONS.  299 

ril  look  to  love,  if  looking  liking   move. 

Many  other  classic  parallels  have  been  pointed  out, — 

Lay  lier  i'  the  earth  : 
And  from  her  fair  and  unpolluted  flesh 
May  violets  spring  ! 

{Ham.  V.  i.  261). 

Non  nunc  e  manibus  istis, 
Non  nunc  e  tumulo,  fortunatdque  favilla 
Nascenter  viola;  ? 

(Pcrsiiis). 

Polonius  says  of  Hamlet : — 

Though  this  be  madness,  yet  there  is  method  in  't. 

{Ham.  II.  ii.  207). 

Horace  makes  the  same  remark  :  — 

Insanire  paret  certa  ratione  modoque. 

Bacon  has  also  a  similar  observation, — "  Annon  prorsus 
cos  dare  operam  ut  cum  ratione  quadam  et  prudentia 
insanirent,  clamaret."  Would  he  not  cry  out  that  they 
were  only  taking  pains  to  shew  a  kind  of  method  and 
discretion  in  their  madness.  {Nov.  Org.,  Preface.  Works 
I.  152  ;  IV.  41). 

Method  in  madness  is  referred  to  in  Meas.  for  Meas.  V.  i. 
60-63,  and  Lear  IV.  vi.  178-g.  See  the  quotations  Chap. 
XIV.  under  hnpertinency  and  Inequality. 

In  Bacon's  Promus,  1055,  another  utterance  relating  to 
madness,  derived  from  Horace,  is  noted  for  literary  use  : — 

Nimiruni  insanus  paucis  videatur 

Maxima  pars  hominum  morbo  laboret  codem. 

{Hor.  Sat.  II.  iii.  120). 

In  passing,  let  those  who  are  so  anxious  to  contrast 
Bacon's  accuracy  with  Shakespeare's  mistakes,  compare 
this  quotation  with  the  actual  one, — 

Nimirum  insanus  paucis  videatur,  eo  quod 
Maxima  pars  hominum  morbo  jactatur  eodcm. 


300         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Similar  instances  of  inaccurate  quotation  might  be  quoted 
by  hundreds  :  as  anyone  may  discover  by  reference  to 
Reynolds'  Edition  of  "Bacon's  Essays."  For  the  same 
idea  in  Shakespeare,  see  Chap.  XIL,  No.  49,  p.  267. 

Tlie  undiscover'd  country  from  whose  bourn  no  traveller  returns. 

{Ham.  III.  i.  79.) 

is  evidently  taken  from  Catullus  : — 

Qui  nunc  it  per  iter  tenebricosum 
Illuc,  uncle  negant  redire  quanquam. 

There  are  many  other  quotations  from  Catullus.  The 
following  has  many  points  of  interest.  In  the  first 
Parnassus  Play — which  is  clearly  of  Shakespearean  origin — 
the  following  lines  occur  :  — 

Associate  yourselves  with  studious  youthes, 

That,  as  Catullus  saith,  devours  the  ii'ciye 

That  leads  to  Parnassus,  where  content  doth  dwell. 

(i  Par.  96). 

This  enables  us  to  trace  the  origin  of  a  phrase  in  2  Hen.  IV. 
I.  i.  47,  which  has  not  hitherto  been  referred  by  any 
commentator  to  its  classic  source  ;  for  the  poet  does  not 
ostentatiously  parade  his  latinity  : — 

He  seem'd  in  running  to  devour  tlie  way. 

The  phrase  in  Catullus  (xxxiii.)  is, — 

Quare,  si  sapiet,  viam  vorabit. 

Miranda  uses  language  taken  from  Catullus  in  speaking 
to  Ferdinand  : — 

I  am  your  wife,  if  you  will  marry  me, 
If  not,  I'll  die  your  maid  ;  to  be  your  fellow 
You  may  den}'  me  ;  but  TU  be  your  servant, 
Whether  vou  will  or  no. 

{Tempest  III.  i.  83). 

This  is  evidently  a  reminiscence  of  the  following  :  — 

Si  tibi  non  cordi  fuerant  connubia  nostra. 


CATULLUS.       HORACE.       VIRGIL.  3OI 

Attamen  in  vestras  potuisti  ducere  sedes, 
Quas  tibi  jucundo  familiarer  serva  labore, 
Candida  permulcens  liquidis  vestigia  lymphis, 
Purpureave  tuum  consternans  veste  cubile. 

{Catullus  Nup.  Pel.  et  Tel.  158). 

Adriana  also  borrows  from  Catullus  : — 

Come,  I  will  fasten  on  this  sleeve  of  thine  ; 
Thou  art  an  elm,  my  husband,  I  a  vine, 
Whose  weakness,  married  to  thy  stronger  state. 
Makes  me  with  thy  strength  to  communicate. 

[Com.  Er.  II.  ii.  175). 

And  let  the  stinking  elder,  grief,  untwine 
His  perishing  root  with  increasing  vine. 

{Cymb.  IV.  ii.  59). 

Lenta  qui  velut  assitas 

Vitis  implicat  arbores 

Implicabitur  in  tuum 

Complexum. 

(Catullus). 

The  singular  frequency  of  allusions  to  Catullus  gives  a. 
strong  presumption  that  the  poet  was  well  acquainted  with 
this  classic  author, — a  poet  not  usually  read  in  schools. 
Horace  and  Virgil  are  equally  familiar  to  the  poet. 

The  well-known  lines, — 

What  stronger  breastplate  than  a  heart  untainted  ! 
Thrice  is  he  armed  that  hath  his  quarrel  just. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii,  232). 

must  be  derived  from  the  equally  familiar  lines, — 

Illi  robur  et  ves  triplex 

Circa  pectus  erat. 

{Horace  I.  iii.). 

In  the  following  passage  the  classic  learning  is  very 
remarkable,  referring  as  it  does  to  usages  not  likely  to  be 
familiar  to  an  unlearned  writer  : — 

Where  be  the  sacred  vials  thou  should'sl  iill 

With  sorrowful  water  ? 

{Aul.  CI.  I.  iii.  63). 


302  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  poet  refers  to  the  Lacryviatores  used  among  the 
Greeks  and  Romans.  The  AuipullcB  lacrymales  are 
mentioned  by  Licetus  in  his  book,  "Df  Lucernis  antiqiwrum 
reconditis.'''  These  are  singularly  recondite  classical 
allusions,  quite  outside  the  highway  of  amateur  traffic. 

When  ^gon  begins  the  story  of  his  life  with, — 

A  heavier  task  could  not  have  been  hnposed' 
Than  I  to  speak  my  griefs  unspeakable. 

(Coin.  Ei:  I.  i.  32). 

the  poet  must  certainly  have  had  in  his  mind  the  well- 
known  lines  of  Virgil, — 

Infandum,  regina,  jubes  renovare  dolorem. 
In  the  same  speech,  when  he  says, 

For  what  obscured  light  the  heavens  did  grant 
Did  but  convey  unto  our  fearful  minds 
A  doubtful  warrant  of  immediate  death. 

(lb.  67). 

the  poet  is  reproducing  Virgil's 

Praesentemque  vires  intentant  omnia  mortem. 

When  Petruchio  says  of  Katherine, 

Be  she 

As  old  as  Sybil,  and  as  curst  and  shrewd 

As  Socrates'  Xantippe  .  .  .  were  she  as  rough 


As  are  the  swelling  Adriatic  Seas. 


(Tiiin.  SIi.  I.  ii.  70). 


His  mind  is  full  of  classic  illustration:  he  is  thinking  of  the 
same  Sybilla  that  Bacon  refers  to  in  his  Essay  of 
"  Delays,"  and  a  line  of  Horace  is  present  to  his  mind, — 
Improbo  iracundior  Hadria. 

Coriolanus  spoke  contemptuously  of  the  Roman  mob  as 
"the  many-headed  multitude"  {Cor.  II.  iii.  17),  using  a 
phrase  derived  from  Horace — Bellua  multorum  es  capi- 
tum.  The  same  classic  reference  is  contained  in  the 
celebrated  description  of  Rumour — as  a  pipe 


TIBULLUS.       OVID.       TERENCE.  303 

Of  SO  easy  and  so  plain  a  stop 

That  the  blunt  monster  with  uncounted  heads, 

The  still-discordant,  wavering  multitude 

Can  play  upon  it. 

(2  Hen.  IV.,  Induct.  15). 

See  Chap.  II.,  sec.  5,  p.  21,  for  Bacon's  use  of  the  same 
Latin  phrase. 

A  Latin  adage,  which  may  have  been  taken  either  from 
Tibullus  or  Ovid,  is  thus  employed  by  Shakespeare — 

Thou  may'st  prove  false:  at  lovers'  perjuries, 

They  say,  Jove  laughs. 

{Rom.  Jul.  II.  ii.  92). 

Ovid's  words  are  :  Jupiter  ex  alto  perjuria  ridet  amantium. 
("Ars  Amoris  "  I.  633).  See  also  "Tibullus  Elegies" 
I.  iv.  21—24,  ^^^'  vii-  17)'  In  Marlowe  there  is  a  metrical 
version: — 

For  Jove  himself  sits  in  the  azure  skies, 
And  laughs,  below,  at  lovers'  perjuries. 

The  following  passage  does  not  at  first  sight  appear  very 
classic  : — 

"Turn  up  on  your  right  hand  at  the  next  turning,  but  at  the  next 
turning  of  all,  on  your  left:  marry,  at  the  very  next  turning,  turn  of 
no  hand,  but  turn  down  indirectly  to  the  Jew's  house."  (Mer.  Vcii. 
I.  ii.  42). 

But  Lewis  Theobald  says  of  this  passage  : — "  This  arch 
and  perplexed  direction,  on  purpose  to  puzzle  the  enquirer, 
seems  to  be  copied  from  that  of  Syrus  to  Demea,  in  the 
Brothers  of  Terence.     Act  IV.,  sc.  ii.: — 

Ubi  eas  pra:;terieris. 
Ad  sinistram  hac  recta  platea  ;  ubi  ad  Dianas  veneris 
Ito  ad  dextram  prius  quam  ad  portam  venias,  etc. 

The  sentiment  of  the  following  passage, — 

If  our  virtues 

Did  not  go  forth  of  us,  'twere  all  alike 

As  if  we  had  them  not, 

{Mens.  Mcas.  I.  i.  34) 


304         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

appears  to  have  originated  in  the  following — 

Paullum  scpultoe  distal  inertiaj 

Cehita  virtus. 

{Horace  Od.  IV.  9). 

There  are  two  passages  in  Horace  which  appear  to  have 
been  very  fertile  of  suggestion  to  our  poet,  for  the  ideas 
expressed  in  them  are  often  repeated.     They  are — 

Extinctus  amabitur  idem. 

{Horace,  Ep.  II.  i.  14). 

(this  is  quoted  in  the  Essay  of  "  Death.") — And, 

Virtutem  incolumen  odimus 
Sublatam  ex  oculis  quasrimus  invidi. 

{Od.  III.  24). 

The  Shakespearean  equivalents  to  these  are  the  follow- 
ing :— 

What  our  contempt  doth  often  hurl  from  us, 

We  wish  it  ours  again?  the  present  pleasure 

By  revolution  lowering,  does  become 

The  opposite  of  itself:  she's  good,  being  gone  : 

The  hand  could  pluck  her  back  that  shoved  her  on. 

{Ant.  CI.  I.  ii.  127). 

Your  are  loved,  sir; 
They  that  least  lend  it  you  shall  lack  you  first. 

(All's  Well  I.  ii.  67). 

It  hath  been  taught  us  from  the  primal  state 
That  he  which  is  was  wish'd  until  he  were  ; 
And  the  ebb'd  man,  ne'er  loved  till  ne'er  worth  love, 
Comes  dear'd  by  being  lack'd. 

(Ant.  CI.  I.  iv.  41). 

I  shall  be  loved  when  I  am  lack'd. 

{Cor.  IV.  i.  15). 

Wliat  we  have  we  prize  not  to  the  worth 

Whiles  we  enjoy  it,  but  being  lack'd  and  lost 

Why,  then  we  rack  the  value,  then  we  find 

The  virtue  that  possession  would  not  show  us. 

Whiles  it  was  ours. 

{M.  Ado  IV.  i.  220). 


LOVED    WHEN    LACKED.  305 

Love  that  comes  too  late, 
Like  a  remorseful  pardon  slowly  carried, 
To  the  great  sender  turns  a  sour  offence, 
Crying,  "  That's  good  that's  gone."     Our  rash  faults 
Make  trivial  price  of  serious  things  we  have. 
Not  knowing  them  until  we  know  their  grave. 
Oft  our  displeasures,  to  ourselves  unjust, 
Destroy  our  friends,  and  after  weep  their  dust,  &c. 

(All's  Well  V.  iii.  57). 

The  phrase,  Extinctus  amabitur  idem,  is  entered  in  the 
Promus  No.  60.  It  concludes,  and  as  it  were  sums  up, 
the  Essay  of  "  Death,"  and  in  Bacon's  observations  on  a 
Libel,  Burleigh  is  referred  to  in  language  evidently  derived 
from  these  passages  in  Horace  :  "  Though  he  somewhat  be 
envied  without  just  cause  whilst  he  liveth,  yet  he  shall  be 
deeply  wanted  when  he  is  gone."     ("  Life  "  I.  201). 

The  same  sentiment,  in  a  different  Latin  rendering,  is 
also  found  in  Promts  No.  69:  Nemo  virtuti  invidiam  recon- 
ciliaverit  praster  mortem. 

It  is  curious  to  note  how  frequently  the  word  lack'd  is 
used  in  the  Shakespeare  passages;  it  is  evidently  the 
equivalent  of  Extinctus,  and  the  fact  that  the  sentiment 
of  these  passages  had  impressed  itself  strongly  on  Bacon's 
mind  is  clearly  indicated  by  the  two  notes  for  literary  use, 
set  down  in  the  Promus.  The  result  is  most  strikingly  seen 
in  All's  Well,  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  and  Much  Ado. 

Catullus  again  turns  up  in  the  following  : — 

Be  now  as  prodigal  of  all  dear  grace. 

As  Nature  was  in  making  graces  dear, 

When  she  did  starve  the  general  world  beside 

And  prodigally  gave  them  all  to  you. 

(L.  L.  L.  II.  i.  9), 

In  the  84th  Epigram,  Lesbia  is  similarly  complimented: 

Qiiixi  cum  pulcherrima  tota  est 
Tum  omnibus  una  omnes  surripuit  Veneres. 

For  most  of   these  references  I  am  indebted    either  to 

Stapfer  or    Lewis  Theobald.      The   latter  is  perhaps  the 

vr 


306         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

most  learned  in  classical  literature  of  all  the  Shake- 
spearean Editors,  and  points  out  a  large  number  of  classic 
parallels.  I  may  select  one  or  two  from  the  Greek 
Classics. 

Troilus  and  Crcssida  opens  with  the  following  words, 
which  are  put  into  the  mouth  of  Troilus — 

Call  here  my  varlet:   I'll  unarm  again; 

Why  should  I  war  without  the  Walls  of  Troy, 

That  find  such  cruel  battle  here  within  ? 

This  sounds  like  an  echo  of  Anacreon: — 

MaT7;v  8'  i)(^(o  (ioii-qv 
Tt  yap  f3a\(D  fXfO^  i$M 

which  may  be  translated:  " 'Tis  in  vain  I  have  a  shield: 
for  wherefore  should  I  wear  that  outward  defence  when 
the  battle  within  me  is  raging  ? " 

Theobald  notes  that  the  conduct  of  the  Poet  in  making 
Pandarus  decipher  and  comment  on  the  Trojan  warriors 
as  they  pass  [Tro.  Cres.  I.  ii.  192-269),  seems  an  imitation 
of  Homer's  Helen  on  the  walls  of  Troy,  when  she  shows 
the  Greeks  to  Priam.  This  incident  is  borrowed  by 
Euripides  in  his  Phoenissae,  and  again  copied  by  Statins  in 
the  7th  book  of  his  Thebias,  where  he  makes  Phorbus  show 
to  Antigone  the  chiefs  of  the  Theban  army. 

To  me  it  appears  evident  that  the  whole  of  this  inci- 
dent is  so  entirely  classic  in  its  conception  and  structure, 
that  it  could  only  have  been  written  by  a  scholar  well 
versed  in  ancient  literature.  It  is  not  a  case  of  borrowing — 
the  Poet  has  not  found  the  incident  ready  made  to  his 
hand, — it  is  not  knowledge  that  might  be  procured  from 
translations,  that  could  bring  the  Poet's  mind  into  this 
attitude  ;  his  mind  is  informed,  according  to  his  own  classic 
way  of  using  this  word,  i.e.,  it  is  shaped  and  moulded  into 
classic  form,  so  that  the  classic  region  becomes  his  natural 
abode,  and  the  classic  style  his  own  proper  mode  of 
utterance. 


ALLUSIONS  TO  GREEK  AUTHORS.  307 

Theobald  quotes  a  remarkable  classic  original  for  the 
well-known  passage  in  Hamlet : — 

He  that  made  us  with  such  large  discourse, 

Looking  before  and  after. 

{Hum.  IV.  iv.  36). 

This,  he  affirms,  is  a  purely  Homeric  expression  : — 

Ots  o    6  yepwv  {xeTerjcnv,  a/xa  Trpocrcrw  /cat  OTTtacrd) 

Acucrcrci. 

{IJhui  III.  109). 
also, — 

OuSc  Tt  oiSe 
No^trai  a/xa  Trpocrcrw  Kat  oTTLcrcTw. 

(lb.  I.  343). 

The  same  phrase  is  also  to  be  found  in  xviii.  250. 

It  may  be  noted  that  the  profound  philosophical  expres- 
sion, "discourse  of  reason,"  is  used  by  Bacon.  (Adv.  of  L. 
I.  iv.  2.     Works  III.  282). 

The  classic  scholarship  shown  in  Titus  Andronicus  is 
very  remarkable  ;  this  play  is  crowded  with  classic  allusions. 
Thus  : — 

The  self-same  gods  that  arm'd  the  Queen  of  Troy, 
With  opportunity  of  sharp  revenge 

Upon  the  Thracian  tyrant  in  his  tent. 

(T/Y.  J.  I.  i.  136). 

— the  tent,  that  is  to  say,  where  she  and  the  other  captive 
Trojan  women  were  kept,  for  thither  Hecuba,  by  a  wile, 
had  decoyed  Polymestor.  "This,"  Theobald  remarks, 
"is  to  be  found  in  the  Hecuba  of  Euripides,  the  only 
author  that  I  can  at  present  remember  from  whom  our 
author  could  have  gleaned  this  circumstance." 
Again  : — 

The  Greeks,  upon  advice  did  bury  Ajax, 

That  slew  himself. 

(7-/7.  .J.  I.  i.  379). 

Theobald    thus    comments   on   this  passage: — "As    the 
author  before  showed  himself  acquainted  with  a  circum- 


308  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

stance  gleaned  from  Euripides,  we  find  him  here  no  less 
conversant  with  the  Ajax  of  Sophocles,  not  at  that  time 
translated,  in  which  Ulysses  and  Teucer  strenuously  con- 
tend for  permission  to  bury  the  body  of  Ajax,  though  he- 
had  been  declared  an  enemy  to  the  Confederate  States  of 
Greece."  Stevens  also  says,  in  reference  to  this  passage, 
that  it  "  alone  would  sufficiently  convince  me  that  the 
play  before  us  was  the  work  of  one  who  was  conversant 
with  the  Greek  tragedies  in  their  original  language." 

This  list  might  be  very  easily  extended  ;  but  it  is  needless 
to  do  so.  Whatever  such  passages  may  prove,  they  cer- 
tainly do  not  prove  that  the  Poet  was  an  ignorant  man,  or 
that  he  derived  his  classic  knowledge  from  translations, — 
that  his  Latin  was  small  and  his  Greek  less,  and  that  he 
somehow  picked  up  his  knowledge  of  classic  mythology 
and  philosoph}^  by  a  happy-go-lucky  hunt  in  vernacular 
literature  and  a  judicious  attention  to  the  conversation  of 
scholars.  These  explanations  are  quite  insufficient  to 
account  even  for  the  specimens  here  presented,  much  less 
for  those  which  a  more  exhaustive  gathering  might  pro- 
duce. It  may  be  true  that  the  Poet  was  no  scholar ;  but  the 
evidence  for  this,  if  it  exists  at  all,  must  be  found  else- 
where, and  it  must  be  of  such  a  kind  as  to  account  for  the 
indications  of  learning  which  I  have  pointed  out.  This 
evidence  is  not  contained  where  we  might  most  reasonably 
expect  to  find  it — in  his  actual  writings, — and  if  it  is  not 
here,  it  is  not  easy  to  conjecture  how  the  conclusion  can 
be  arrived  at  at  all. 

II. — The  second  indication  of  classic  scholarship  is  that 
derived  from  the  classical  plays, — which  need  not  detain 
us  long.  In  writing  these  plays,  it  is  probable  that  English 
translations  were  used  as  a  matter  of  convenience,  even 
though  the  writer  might  have  been  capable  of  going  to  the 
original  sources.  My  conviction  is  that  any  unbiassed 
reader  will  not  easily  lose  the  impression  that  a  poet  who 
could  so  faithfully  reproduce  the  spirit  and  entourage  of 
classic  events  and  persons,  must  have  studied  them  care- 


GRAMMATICAL    CONSTRUCTION.  309 

fully  in  their  most  authentic  setting.  But  when  this 
impression  does  not  arise,  or  is  resisted,  I  have  no  means 
of  enforcing  it  by  argument.  The  minute  comparisons 
required  between  the  knowledge  shewn  in  the  plays  and 
that  extant  at  the  time  in  translations,  is  a  matter  for 
exact  analysis  for  each  particular  scene  in  each  play. 
Therefore,  whilst  claiming  for  them  a  remarkable  familiarity 
with  the  events  and  characters  relating  to  ancient  history — 
such  a  familiarity  as  is  rarely  disassociated  with  scholarship 
and  acquaintance  with  fountain  heads — I  can  only  add 
that  those  who  insist  on  explaining  away  all  those  pre- 
sumptive evidences  may  do  so  without  any  polemical 
protest  from  me.  I  think  it  will  be  found  that  the 
arguments  resorted  to  are  so  strained  and  speculative  that 
few  will  be  convinced  by  them  alone,  apart  from  other 
considerations. 

III. — For  classic  foot-prints  of  the  third  kind, — those 
depending  on  the  use  of  Latin  idioms  and  grammatical 
forms,  instead  of  the  vernacular  construction  which  can 
scarcely  be  departed  from  in  the  smallest  particulars  by 
an  unlearned  writer, — I  am  chiefly  indebted  to  Dr.  Abbott's 
very  learned  and  exhaustive  Shakespearean  grammar.  The 
following  are  specimens  : — 

(ci)  Why,  saw  3-ou  anything  more  wonderful  ? 

(y///.  Ca's.  I.  iii.  14). 

The  comparative  "  more  wonderful  "  seems  to  be  used,  as 
in  Latin,  for — more  wonderful  than  usual.     {Abbott  6). 

(6)  The  superlative  inflexion  cd,  like  the  Latin  super- 
lative, is  often  used  to  express  the  idea  of  augmented 
quality, — for  which  ordinarily  the  word  very  would  be 
employed, — with  little  or  no  idea  of  excess  over  other 
examples.     {Abbott  8).     Thus — 

A  little  ere  the  Jiiiglilicsl  Julius  fell. 

{Ham.  I.  i.  114). 

(c)  The  adjectives    all,    each,   both,    every,    other,    are 


310  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

sometimes  interchanged  and  used  as  pronouns  in  a  manner 
quite  different  from  modern  usage.     {Abbott  12).     Thus — 

Without  nil  bail — like  Sine  otinii. 

(Son.  74). 

{d)  Tlie  adjectives  just,  mere,  proper,  very,  are  some- 
times used  as  in  Latin.     {Abbott  13).     Thus — 

Not  till  iVIoiKlay,  my  dear  son,  which  is  hence  a  just  seven- 
night.  {M.  Ado  II.  i.  374). 

The  mere  despair  of  surgery. 

{Macb.  IV.  iii.  152). 

(See  mere  in  the  subsequent  division  of  this  discussion, 
Chapter  XIV.). 

Their  proper  selves. 

{Tciiip.  III.  iii.  60). 

My  very  friends. 

{Mcr.  V.  III.  ii.  226). 

{e)  One  is  used  for— above  all. 

He  is  one  the  truest  manncr'd. 

(Cyinb.  I.  vi.  165). 

So  the  Latin,  justissunus  unus.     {Abbott  18). 

{f)  We  find  since,  followed  by  the  present  tense,  used  to 
denote  an  action  that  is,  and  has  been  going  on,  since  a 
certain  time.  So  in  Latin  with  jampridcm.  {Abbott  62). 
Thus, — 

M}'  desires  .  .  .  e'er  since  pursue  me. 

(TiJi'.  \\  1.  i.  22). 

{g)  After  is  used  in  the  same  way  as  Secundum,  in  Latin, 
meaning,  according  to.     {Abbott  41).     Thus, — 

Say  you  choose  him 
I^Iore  after  our  commandment,  than  as  guided 
By  your  own  true  affections. 

{Coriol.  II.  iii.  237). 

Rotten  opinion,  who  hatii  writ  me  down 
After  my  seeming. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  V.  ii.  128). 


.:    ;  CLASSIC    FORMS    OF    SPEECH.  3II 

(h)  To  is  used  to  express  representation,  equivalence, 
apposition,  like  the  Latin  dative  case : — Habenms  Deuin 
ainico, — 

I  have  a  King  here  to  my  flatterer. 

{Rich.  II.  IV.  iv.  308). 

Warwick  is  thither  gone,  to  crave  the  French  King's  sister  to  wife 

for  Edward. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  29). 

And  many  other  examples.     {Abbott  i8g). 

(0  The  omission  of  the  preposition  (of:  with:  &c.)  after 
a  verb,  is  perhaps  a  Latinism: — 

Despair  thy  charm.      {Mach.  V.  viii.  13), 

So  sympathise,  with  its  etymological  sense,   suffered  with 
{Abbott  200). — 

The  senseless  brands  will  sympathize 
The  heavy  accent  of  thy  moving  tongue. 

{Ricli.  II.  V.  i.  46). 

{k)  Your,  like  the  Latin  iste,  is  used  to  appropriate  an 
object  to  the  person  addressed  : — 

Your  serpent  of  Egypt  is  bred  now  of  your  mud  by  the  operation 
of  your  sun  ;  so  is  your  crocodile. 

(/!»/.  C/.  II.  vii.  29). 

And  many  such  instances.     {Abbott  221). 

(/)  The  Latin  idiom  which  puts  the  relative  who,  before 
the  conjunction,  may  be  imitated  in  such  passages  as  the 
following.     {Aobott  249). — 

Who,  if  he  break,  thou  may'st  with  better  face 

Exact  the  penalty. 

{Mcr.  v.  I.  iii.  137). 

(;n)  Like  the  Latin  qua,  qua,  so,  what,  what,  is  used  for 
partly,      partly.      With     is    generally    joined    with     this. 

{Abbott  2S5).- 

IVIiat  ivilli  our  help,  n'lial  icilli  the  absent  King, 
What  with  the  injuries  of  a  wanton  time. 

(i  Hen  /r.  V.  i.  49). 


JI2  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

(»)  Indicatives  of  the  simple  present  used  for  the 
complete  present,  with  adverbs  signifying  "As  yet,"  &c.  : 
in  accordance  with  the  Latin  idiom,  '' janipridem  opio.'" 
{Abbott  346). 

That's  the  worst  tidings  that  /  luar  of  yd. 

(1  Hen.  IV.  IV  i.  127). 

(0)  Noun  and  infinitive  used  as  subject  and  object.  This 
may  be  either  a  Latinism,  or  early  English.  {Abbott  354). — 

It  is  the  lesser  blot,  modesty  finds, 

IVoiiicii  to  change  their  shapes,  than  men  their  minds. 

{Tii\  G.  V.  V.  iv.  108). 

{p)  Infiniti\-e  indefinitely  used  :  to,  being  like  Latin  ad 
with  a  gerund,— 

To  fright  you  thus,  methinks,  I  am  too  savage, 

{Macb.  IV.  ii.  70). 

meaning  not, — "  I  am  too  savage  to  frighten  you,"  but,  in  or 
for  frightening  you.     {Abbott  ^^6). 

{q)  A  participle  is  used  with  the  pronoun  implied  or 
understood — the  required  pronoun  being  easily  understood 
from  the  pronounial  adjective.  Compare — Nostros  vidisti 
flentis  ocellos.     So, — 

Not  helping  death's  my  fee. — {All's  W.  II.  i.  192). 

i.e.,  death  is  the  fee  of  me  not  helping.     {Abbott  ;^yg). 

(r)  As  in  Latin  a  verb  of  speaking  (says  :  asks  &c.)  can 
be  omitted  when  it  is  implied,  {Abbott  382)  :  i.  By  some 
other  word — 

She  calls  me  proud  and  [says]  that 

She  would  not  love  me. — {As  You  Like  It  IV.  iii.  16). 

or  ii.  By  a  question,— 

What  are  you  ? 
[I  ask,  or  tell  me]   Your  name  and  quality,  and  why  you  answer 
This  present  summons.  {Lear  V.  iii.  119) 

These  and  many  other  incidental  references  to  Latin  con- 


VERBAL   INFLEXIONS   ASSUMED.  313 

struction  are  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Abbott.  And  yet,  in  dis- 
cussing the  actual  question  of  the  existence  of  foreign  idioms 
in  Shakespeare,  he  says  (418):  "  It  is  questionable  whether 
there  are  many  "  Latinisms  in  constvudion  (Latinisms  in  the 
formation  of  words  are  of  constant  occurrence)  in  Shakes- 
peare." My  own  judgment,  based  on  an  induction  from 
the  instances  which  Dr.  Abbott  himself  supplies,  does  not 
coincide  with  this  conclusion.  It  seems  to  me  that  Latin 
constructions  are  not  infrequent  in  Shakespeare.  Of  this, 
every  student  must  judge  for  himself  after  reviewing  the 
evidence.  That  such  constructions  actually  exist, — be 
they  few  or  many, — there  cannot  be  any  doubt ;  and  their 
actual  presence,  however  rare,  is  highly  significant  of  Latin 
scholarship.  Dr.  Abbott  refers  to  the  following  as 
illustrations  of  such  constructions, — 

Those  dispositions  that  of  late  transfomi  you 

From  what  you  rightly  are, 

{Lear  I.  iv.  242). 

This  is  an  imitation  of  the  Latin  use  of  jampridcm  with  the 
present  in  the  sense  of  the  perfect, — 

Let  that  be  mine. 

{Meas.  M.  II.  ii.  12). 

is  an  imitation  of  meum  est — it  is  my  business. 

The  following  resembles  the  Latin  idiom,  post  urbcvi 
conditam, — 

'Tis  our  hope,  Sir, 

After  [our  beingj  well  enter'd  [as]  soldiers,  to  return 

And  find  your  Grace  in  health. 

(^//'5  Well  II.  i.  5). 

The  classic  aroma  in  Shakespeare  is  very  strikingly  dis- 
played by  the  numerous  elisions  and  elipses,  which  are 
natural  to  Latin  composition  but  many  of  them  quite  in- 
admissible in  English,  The  hiatus  which  causes  obscurity 
in  English  is  supplied  by  verbal  inflexions  in  Latin  which 
remove  all  ambiguity.  And  even  in  such  cases  as  cannot 
be   clearly   connected  with  any  of  the  canons   of  Latin 


314         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Syntax,  but  are  rather  stretched  and  strained  EngHsh 
idioms,  this  habit  and  method  of  tempering  and  twisting 
the  language  is  a  sort  of  imported  habit, — an  unconscious 
assumption  that  the  Enghsh  language,  without  inflections, 
may  be  as  plastic  as  the  Latin  language  with  inflections. 
In  construing  Shakespeare  we  must  continually  decide 
which  word  is  in  the  Nominative  Case,  which  in  the  Dative 
or  Ablative,  where  the  Ablative  absolute  must  be  assumed, 
whether  a  verb  usually  neuter  is  or  is  not  used  actively, 
what  prepositions  are  to  be  understood  ;  in  short  any  of  the 
rules  of  Latin  Syntax  may  contribute  to  the  elucidation  of 
difficult  passages.  In  the  following  quotations  the  words 
in  brackets  are  such  as  may  be  supposed  to  be  understood 
to  complete  the  sense, — 

There  is  no  woe  [comparable]  to  his  correction, 

Nor  [in  comparison]  to  liis  service  no  such  joy  on  earth, 

{Tii'.  G.  V.  II.  iv.  138). 

All  I  can  [say]  is  nothing  [in  comparison]  to  her, 

She  is  alone. 

{lb.  167). 

Heaven  me  such  uses  send  [as  that  I  may]   not  [have]  to  pick 

bad  from  bad,  but  [if  I  must  have  bad  usage  that  I  may]  by  bad 

[usage]  mend. 

{Ollidlo  IV.  iii.  end). 

Ne'er  mother  rejoiced  [at]  deliverance  more. 

{Cymb.  V.  v.  369). 

This  omission  of  a  preposition  after  a  verb  which 
requires  the  preposition  in  order  to  make  it  transitive,  is 
very  common,  and  very  classic.  It  has  been  already 
referred  to  (p.  311).  The  following  specimens  may  be 
added  : — 

By  chaste  Lucrece  soul  that  late  complained 

Her  wrongs  to  us. 

{Luc.  1839). 

He  was  much  feared  [for]  by  his  physicians. 

(i  Hai.  IV.  IV.  i.  24). 


INVERTED    SENTENCES.  315 

The  elisions  in  such  a  passage  as  the  following  are  very 
classic : — 

Love  goes  towards  love  as  schoolbo\-s  [go]  from  their  books, 

But  love  from  love  [as  schoolboys]   toward  school  with  heavy  looks. 

(/e.y.  II.  ii.156). 

The  construction  of  a  sentence  in  which  the  order  of 
words  is  inverted  is  distinctly  classical,  requiring  such 
inflexions  to  indicate  person,  number,  case  or  tense,  as  the 
classic  languages  supply. 

Your  large  speeches  may  your  deeds  approve. 

{Lear  I.  i.  184). 

What  cannot  be  preserved  when  Fortune  takes 
Patience  her  injury  a  mockery  makes. 

(0///.  I.  iii.  206). 

What  cannoi  be  preserved  is  evidently  the  objective  of  the 
verb  takes;  and  a  mockery  is  the  objective  of  the  verb 
makes.  Her  injury  is  connected  by  a  preposition  under- 
stood with  the  objective  of  the  verb  makes — makes  a 
mockery  [of]  her  injury. 

Still  more  anomalous  is: — 

Opinion's  but  a  fool  that  makes  us  scan 
The  outward  habit  by — the  inward  man. 

{Per.  II.  ii.  56). 

The  outward  habit  is  governed  by  the  preposition  by 
which  follows  it  ;  and  the  objective  governed  by  the  word 
scan  is  the  inward  man,  the  accusative  being  separated  by 
a  large  gap  from  the  transitive  verb  which  rules  it.  If  the 
poet  had  been  writing  in  simple  vernacular  English  he 
would  have  said  The  inward  habit  by  the  outward  man. 

So  again,  such  a  sentence  as  the  following  must  be  con- 
strued as  carefullv  as  a  sentence  of  Cicero  or  Tacitus,  and 
indeed  is  cast  in  the  mould  characteristic  of  these  authors 
rather  than  in  that  of  vernacular  English, — 

Fortune's  blows  when  most  struck  home, 


3l6  SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Being  gentle  wounded,  craves  a  noble  cunning. 

{Cor.  IV.  i.  7). 

which  Cowden  Clarke  thus  paraphrases, — When  the 
blows  of  Fortune  strike  most  directly,  to  be  gentle,  though 
wounded,  requires  a  noble  philosophy. 

Timon  abounds  in  these  cryptic  classic  constructions  : — 

Like  madness  is  the  glory  of  this  life 

As  this  pomp  sliows  to  a  little  oil  and  root. 

{Tim.  I.  ii.  139). 

construed  thus : — Such  madness  is  the  glory  of  this 
life,  as  the  pomp  of  this  feast  appears,  when  compared  with 
the  frugal  repa.st  of  a  little  oil  and  a  few  roots.  Here  is 
another  specimen  : — 

Best  state,  contentless, 
Hath  a  distracted  and  most  wretched  being, 
Worse  than  the  worst,  content. 

{Tim.  IV.  iii.  245). 

Again  : — the  omission  of  the  word  to,  to  mark  the  infini- 
tive shows  a  writer  accustomed  to  rely  on  inflexions  : — 

You  ought  not  walk. 

{Jul.  C.  I.  i.  3). 

How  long  within  this  wood  intend  j-ou  stay  ? 

(m.  N.  D.U.i.  138). 

The  Subjunctive  or  optative  or  other  mood  must  be 
inferred  from  the  position  of  the  verb  in  such  a  sentence  as 
this  :— 

Live  [i.e.,  if  I  were  to  live]  a  thousand  years, 
I  shall  not  tind  myself  so  apt  to  die. 

(J///.C.III.  i.  159). 

Judge  me  the  world. 

(0///.  I.  ii.  72). 

i.e.,  let  the  world  judge  me. 

Long  die  thy  liappy  days  before  tii}'  death. 

{Rich.  III.  I.  iii.  207). 

The  use  of  a  noun  or  a  pronoun  in  an  absolute  sense, — 


ENGLISH   AS   SPOKEN   BY   AN    ANCIENT    ROMAN.        317 

analogous  to  the  ablative  or  nominative  absolute, — is 
frequent  :  or  the  pronoun  may  be  omitted,  its  place  being 
supplied  by  a  participle  or  an  adjective. 

Then  deputy  of  Ireland  ;  who,  removed, 

Earl  Surrey  was  sent  thither. 

{Hen.  VIII.  II.  i.  42). 

Requires  to  live  in  Egypt,  which  not  granted 
He  lessens  his  requests. 

{Aiif.  CI.  III.  xii.  12). 

Not  helping,  death's  my  fee. 

{All's  nW/II.i.  192). 

I  should  not  seek  an  absent  argument 
Of  my  revenge,  thou  being  present. 

{As  You  Like  It  III.  i.  3). 

The  auxiliary  verb  is  omitted  : — 

I  not  doubt 
He  came  alive  to  land.         {Temp.  II.  i.  121). 

These  classic  constructions  are  of  perpetual  recurrence : — 

'Tis  not  my  profit  that  doth  lead  mine  honour 

Mine  honour  it.  {Anf.  CI.  II.  vii.  83). 

i.e.,  but  it  is  mine  honour  that  doth  go  before  my  profit. 

'Tis  not  enough  to  help  the  feeble  up, 
But  to  support  him  after. 

(Tim.  I.  i.  107). 

Be  guilt}'  of  my  death,  since  of  my  crime. 

{Luc.  931). 

This  must  be  known  :  which  being  kept  close  might  move 
More  grief  to  hide,  than  hate  to  utter  love 

{Ham.  II.  i.  end). 

which  Dr.  Abbott  construes  thus  : — This  ought  to  be 
revealed  ;  for  it,  by  being  suppressed  might  excite  more 
grief  in  the  King  and  the  Queen  by  the  hiding  of  it,  than 
an  unwillingness  to  tell  bad  news  would  excite  love.  For 
many  other  such  instances  see  Cowden  Clarke's  Shake- 
speare Key. 


3iS 


CHAPTER     XIV. 

THE     CLASSIC     DICTION     OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

The  examples  of  Latin  construction  we  have  given  may 
suffice  to  prove  that  the  poet  not  only  derived  facts, 
thoughts,  ideas,  illustrations,  allusions,  ornaments,  from 
classic  writers  ;  all  this  might  perhaps  have  been  done  by 
the  use  of  translations  ;  but  it  shows  that  the  language 
itself  had  taken  strong  possession  of  his  mind,  had  given 
form  and  substance  to  his  speech,  had  coloured  and  shaped 
his  style,  and  enabled  him  to  write  according  to  the  usages 
of  the  Latin  grammar,  in  modes  of  expression  which  a 
simple  adhesion  to  his  own  native  language  would  not 
have  permitted. 

This  will  become  still  more  evident  now  that  we  come 
to  the  fourth  kind  of  evidence  of  classic  knowledge — the 
object  of  which  is  to  show  that  Shakespeare's  vocabulary 
was  in  the  highest  degree  classic — that  Latin  was  a 
language  which  he  could  use  as  a  vehicle  of  his  own 
thoughts — that  his  English  contains  very  large  augmenta- 
tions from  the  Latin.  It  shows  him  constantly  making 
linguistic  experiments,  endeavouring  to  enrich  his  native 
language  by  coining  new  words,  derived  from  the  Latin ; 
and  that  even  ordinary  English  words  often  became 
plastic  and  elastic  in  his  speech,  carrying  a  larger  import 
than  their  vernacular  employment  can  account  for.  As 
this  kind  of  evidence  has  not  hitherto  been  very  completely 
shown,  and  only  incidentally  noticed,  I  will  give  as  full  a 
collection  as  I  can  of  words  used  in  a  classic  sense  by 
Shakespeare — either  non-naturalised  Latin  words,  or  else 
English  words  of  Latin  derivation, — which  although  they 


ABRUPTION.      ACADEME.       ACCITE.      ACKNOWN.         319 

have  a  fixed  English  import,  yet  in  ordinary  use  do  not 
bear  all  the  meaning  which  in  the  poet's  hand  they  are 
made  to  bear,  and  which  is  derived  from  their  classic  roots. 

1.  Abruption,  used  once  only,  is  not  really  English  ;  it 
represents  the  Latin  word  abruptio,  a  breaking  or  tearing 
off,  a  hasty  rending  asunder,  or  interruption. 

What  makes  this  pretty  abruption  ? 

{Tro.  Cr.lU.il  6g). 

Bacon  uses  abnipta  scientia  as  equivalent  to  knowledge 
broken  off  and  losing  itself.     (See  Admiration). 

Bacon  speaks  of  the  injury  to  philosophy  contonplationcm 
intempestive  abnimpendo, — by  breaking  off  scrutiny  pre- 
maturely. 

2.  Academe,  ' AKaS-^/xeLa,  or  'AKaSrjfjiia  a  gymnasium  in  the 
suburbs  of  Athens  where  Plato  taught. 

Our  court  shall  be  a  little  Academe. 

(Love's  Laboiifs  Lost  I.  i.  13). 

a  word  not  likely  to  be  used  by  an  unlearned  writer. 

3.  Accite,  Lat.  accio,  accitus ;  to  summon  or  call  to  a 
place  ;  used  three  times  ;  the  second  case  with  the  sense 
of  move  or  impel. 

He  by  the  Senate  is  accitcd  home. 

(7/7.  A.  I.  I.  27). 

What  accitcs  your  most  worshipful  thought  to  think  so  ? 

(2  Hen.  IV.  II.  ii.  64). 

Our  coronation  done,  we  will  accite, 
As  I  before  remember'd,  all  our  State. 

(lb.  V.  ii.  141). 

4.  Acknowii ;  occurs  only  once,  and  is  probably  an 
attempt  to  bring  the  Latin  word  agnosco  into  the  language 
— not  the  Greek  root  of  Mr.  Huxley's  very  useful  word 
agnostic,  which  implies  not  knowledge  but  ignorance; 

Be  not  aclinown  on't ;  I  have  use  for  it. 

{Otii.  in.  iii,  319). 


320         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

meaning,  do  not  profess  any  knowledge  of  the  matter — do 
not  recognize  or  make  any  reference  to  it. 

Ben  Jonson,  the  most  classic,  indeed  pedantic,  of 
dramatists,  has  : — 

You  will  not  be  ackiunvn  sir  ;  wh}'  'tis  wise  ; 
Thus  do  all  gamesters  at  all  games  dissemble. 

{Volpoiic). 

5.  Act :  is  sometimes  used  in  one  of  the  senses  of  the 
Latin  word  Actus,  i.e.,  effect,  operation,  use  or  function:  a 
sense  which,  though  rather  mediaeval  than  classic,  is  found 
in  Bacon's  Latin.  Thus  he  regards  Fascination,  as  the  Vis 
ei  actus  imaginationis,  the  power  and  operation  of  Imagi- 
nation. So  in  Hamlet,  the  witnesses  of  the  ghost  are 
described  as  : 

Distilled  almost  to  jelly  bj'  the  act  of  fear. 

{Ham.  I.  ii.  205). 

Bees  are  described  as  showmg  the  function  of  order  in  a 
state  ;  they  are 

Creatures  that,  by  a  rule  in  nature,  teach 

The  act  {i.e.,  the  function,  operation,  use)  of  order  to  a 

peopled  Kingdom. 

{Hen.  V.  I.  ii.  188). 

lago,  who  is  profoundly  philosophic,  says. 

When  the  blood  is  made  dull  with  the  act  of  sport. 

{0th.  II.  i.  229.) 

i.e.,  by  the  effect  or  operation  of  sport. 

Again,  lago  philosophising  on  jealousy,  says, — 

Dangerous  conceits  arc  in  their  natures,  poisons, 

Which  at  the  first  are  scarce  found  to  distaste, 

But  with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood, 

Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur. 

{Oili.  III.  iii.  326). 

6.  Aduiiration  =  'Latin,  Adj)iiratio,  Wonder.  (See  Chapter 
VL  for  a  full  discussion  of  this  very  interesting  word.) 

7.  Advertising  (as   an   Adjective).     This   word   is   once 


ADVERTISE.    AGGKAVATE.  321 

used  in  the  classic  sense  (adverto)  of  mindful,  regardful, 
observant, — directing  one's  mind,  feelings,  thought  or 
attention  to  a  thing. 

As  I  was  tlien 
Advertising,  and  holy  to  your  business, 
Not  changing  heart  with  habit,  I  am  still 
Attorney'd  at  your  service. 

{Mcas.for  Mcas.  V.  i.  387). 

Elsewhere  the  word,  with  different  inflexion,  has  a 
meaning  related  to  the  French  avertir,  warn,  give  infor- 
mation. 

8.  Aggravate.  Dr.  Abbott  says,  "  To  aggravate  now 
means,  except  when  applied  to  disease,  to  add  to  the 
mental  burdens  of  anyone,  hence  to  vex  ;  but  in  Sonnet 
146  we  find, — 

Then  soul  live  thou  upon  thy  servant's  loss, 

[/.6'.  thy  body's  loss] 
And  let  that  pine  to  aggravate  thy  store, 

in  the  literal  sense  of  to  add  to  the  weight  of, — increase." 
(See  **  Shak.  Gram.,"  p.  13).  This  is,  of  course,  a 
naturalization  of  the  Latin  word  aggravo — ad,  gravis, — 
make  heavy.     Other  instances  are, — 

Once  more,  the  more  to  aggravate  the  note, 
With  a  foul  traitor's  name  stuff  I  thy  throat. 

{Ricli.  II.  I.  i  43). 

The  Clarendon  Editor  interprets  the  word  aggravate  to 
mean  "  intensify  or  surcharge  the  note  of  disgrace.  So 
Falstaff  says, — "  Ford's  a  knave,  and  I  will  aggravate  his 
style — thou.  Master  Brook,  shalt  know  him  for  knave  and 
cuckold.'"  [Mer.  W.  II.  ii.  296).  This  ''cuckold"  is  the 
aggravation  intended,  and  thus  the  additional  weight  is 
exactly  defined.  The  poet  seemed  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  some  small  scholarship  is  required,  if  this  word  is  to 
be  used  accurately,  for  he  shews  how  uneducated  persons 
may  blunder  over  it.  Bottom  uses  it  thus,  —  "I  will 
aggravate  my  voice  so  that  I  will  roar  you  as  gently  as  any 

X 


322  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

sucking  dove  "  {M .  N.  D.  I.  ii.  83);  and  Mistress  Quickly 
makes  the  same  mistake,  '•!  beseek  you  now  aggravate 
your  choler."  (2  Hen.  IV.  II.  iv.  175).  In  these  cases  the 
absurdity  depends  on  recognizing  the  classic  sense  which 
the  speaker  not  only  misses  but  reverses. 

9.  Antvcs :  taken  directly  from  the  Latin  antrum,  a  cave 
(once  only). 

Of  antrcs  vast  and  deserts  idle. 

(0///.  I.  iii.  140). 

10.  Argentine  :  Latin  argentum,  silver  (once  only). 

Celestial  Dian,  goddess  Argentine. 

{Per,  V.  i.  251). 

This  involves  also  a  classic  allusion  to  Diana's  silver  bow. 
Bacon  has  a  Pronius  Note  (837),  Argentangina. 

11.  Artificial :  with  a  meaning  derived  from  the  Latin 
word  artifex,  a  maker  or  creator,  is  used  in  the  following 
passages : — 

We,  Hermia,  like  two  aitificial  gods 

Have  with  our  needles  created  both  one  flower. 

(M.  N.  D.IU.  ii.  203). 

Artificial  strife 
Lives  in  these  touches,  livelier  than  life. 

{Tiiiwn  I.  i.  37). 

Artificial,  in  this  last  passage,  may  refer  to  the  subject  of 
the  picture,  i.e.,  the  strife  which  is  represented  ;  or  it  may 
mean  the  struggle  of  Art,  as  a  creator,  to  rival  or  represent 
Nature.  Probably  the  poet  wished  to  combine  more 
meanings  than  one  in  one  word,  as  was  his  wont. 

12.  Aspersion:  used  once  by  Shakespeare,  does  not  mean 
calumny  ;  it  has  a  meaning  derived  from  its  Latin  root, 
but  even  this  is  taken  in  a  very  peculiar  sense.  The  Latin 
aspergo,  aspersi,  means  to  sprinkle,  and  the  poet,  with  a 
hidden  allusion  to  Baptism,  uses  the  word  aspersion  for 
consecration. 

No  sweet  aspersion  shall  the  heavens  let  fall 


ASPERSIOiN.    CACOD.EMON.    CADENT.    CAPRICIOUS.       323 

To  make  this  contract  grow. 

{Temp.  IV.  i.  18). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  in  the  classic  sense,  but  in  a  more 
current  way — to  signify  a  sprinkling,  or  mixture  of  two 
things.  Of  the  Jewish  ceremonial  law  he  remarks, — 
"There  is  to  be  found,  besides  the  theological  sense,  much 
aspersion  of  philosophy."  ("Advancement"  I.  vi.  g; 
Works  III.  298).  And  the  King's  book  is  described  as  "a 
work  richly  compounded  of  divinity,  morality  and  policy, 
with  great  aspersion  of  all  other  arts."  {lb.  II.  xxi.  8,  p.  429). 
"The  King  now  hath  reigned  twelve  years  in  his  white  robe 
without  almost  any  aspersion  of  the  crimson  dye  of  blood." 
(Oliver  St,  John  Charge.     "  Life  "  V.  143). 

13.  CacodcBmon  :  Greek  KaKoSat/Awi',  Evil  genius  (once 
only). 

Hie  thee  to  heil,  for  shame,  and  leave  tlie  world, 
Thou  Cacodivmoii  !  there  thy  kingdom  is. 

{Rich.  III.  I.iii.  143). 

14.  Cadcnt :   Latin  cado,  fall  (once  only). 

With  cadcnt  tears  fret  channels  in  her  cheeks. 

{Lear  I.  iv.  307). 

15.  Candidatus  :  This  Latin  word  is  used,  unchanged, 
once  only, — 

Be  candidatus  then  and  put  it  on. 

{Tit.  And.  I.  i.  185). 

i.e.,  put  on  the  white  palliament,  or  robe,  which  the 
candidate  wore.  To  the  English  signification  of  the  word 
■candidate,  is  added  the  sense  of  white  coloured,  implied  in 
the  original  Latin. 

16.  Capricious .  This  word  occurs  once  only  in  Shake- 
speare, and  then  is  used  in  rather  an  intricate  pun,  "  I  am 
here,  with  thee  and  thy  goats,  as  the  most  capricious  poet, 
honest  Ovid,  was  among  the  Goths."  {As  You  Like  It  III. 
iii.  7).  Capricious  has  a  double  reference  to  the  Italian 
word  capriccioso,  humorous  or  fantastical,  and  to  the  Latin 


324  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

word  caper,  a  goat  And  the  word  Goths, — pronounced 
goats, — augments  the  punning.  The  Goths  were  the 
Getae,  a  Thracian  tribe  on  the  Danube,  whither  Ovid  was 
banished.  This  redupHcated  pun  is  further  illustrated  by 
a  passage  in  the  undoubtedly  Shakespearean  play,  The 
Return  from  Parnassus, — "Good  Ovid  that  in  his  life-time 
lived  with  the  Gctes,  and  now  after  his  death  converseth 
with  a  Barbarian."  (3  Par.  702).  The  passage  in  As  You 
Like  It  helps  us  to  interpret  the  Parnassus  play,  in  which 
the  Goths  are  hidden  under  the  more  general  title  Barbarian. 
17.  Captious  occurs  once  only,  and  with  an  entirely 
classic  meaning, — 

I  know  I  love  in  vain,  strive  against  hope  ; 
Yet  in  this  captions  and  inicniblc  sieve 
I  still  pour  in  the  waters  of  my  love. 

(.4//'s  ira/I.  iii.  207). 

Captious  has  the  meaning  of  the  Latin  word  capio,  I  take  ; 
and  intenible  is  formed  from  teneo,  I  hold,  with  the  priva- 
tive particle  in  ;  so  that  the  Poet  is  speaking  of  a  sieve, 
which  takes  all  and  holds  nothing.  This  involves  another 
very  subtle  classic  allusion,  which  we  know  Bacon  intended 
to  put  to  some  literary  use.  For  in  the  Promus,  No.  521, 
we  find  Fere  Danaidcs.  The  Danaids,  daughters  of 
Danaus,  w^ere  punished  in  Hades  by  being  compelled 
everlastingly  to  pour  waters  into  a  sieve.  The  same 
allusion  is  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  Shakespeare  : — 

I  pray  thee,  cease  thy  counsel, 

Which  falls  into  my  ears  as  profitless 

As  water  in  a  sieve. 

(iU.  Ado.  V.  i.  3). 

Rosalind. — My  affection  hath  an  unknown  bottom,   like  the  Bay 

of  Portugal. 

CcUa.—Or  rather  bottomless,  that  as  fast  as  you  pour  affection 

in,  it  runs  out. 

{AsYou  Like  Itl\.i.2ii). 

18.   Cast  is  another  instance  of  classic  punning  :— 


CASUAL,    CIRCUMMURE.    CIRCUMSCRIBE.  325 

He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lips  of  Diana  .  .  .  the  very  ice  of 

chastity  is  in  them. 

{As  You  Like  It  III.  iv.  16). 

The  word  cast  combines  the  double  meaning  of  the 
EngHsh  vernacular,  cast  off,  done  with  ;  and  the  Latin 
castus,  chaste,  Diana  being  the  goddess  of  chastity. 

ig.  Casual.  Casualties — corresponding  to  Bacon's  Latin 
word  casualia,  from  casus — what  happens,  or  falls  out : — 
not  necessarily  misfortune. 

The  martlet 
Builds  in  the  weather  on  the  outward  wall, 
Even  in  the  force  and  road  of  casualty. 

{Mcr.  Yen.  II.  ix.  29). 

Turned  her — to  foreign  casualties. 

{Lear  IV.  iii.  45). 

Time  hath  rooted  out  my  parentage, 

And  to  the  world  and  awkward  casualties 

Bound  rae  in  servitude. 

{Pericles  V.  i.  93). 

Your  brace  of  unprizable  estimations  :  the  one  is  but  frail,  and 
the  other  casual.  {Cymb.  I.  iv.  100). 

Bacon  speaks  of  the  ''casualty'''  of  the  fortunes  of  kings 
("Adv.  L."  I.  iii.  6),  and  referring  to  the  confiscation  of  the 
goods  of  attainted  subjects,  he  calls  them  ''casualties  of 
the  crown"— z.c.  windfalls.     ("  Hen.  VIL"). 

20.  CifcummuYC :  once  only  ;  the  Latin  itself  is  the 
Poet's  :  circum,  around,  with  inurus,  a  wall. 

He  hath  a  garden  circuiiiiuured  with  brick. 

{Meas.  M.  IV.  i.  28). 

21.  Circumscribe  :  circumscriberc,  inclose  in  a  circle, 
limit,  define  the  limits  or  boundaries  of  anything. 

Where  he  circumscribed  with  his  sword 
And  brought  to  voke  tlie  enemies  of  Rome. 

{Tit.  A.  I.  i.  68). 

Therefore  must  his  clioice  be  circumscribed. 

{Haul.  I.  iii.  22). 


326  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

22.  Circtimscription, — once  only  used, — from    the  same 
root, — 

I  would  not  my  unhoused  free  condition 

Put  into  cirainiscripfion  and  confine. 

(0///.  I.  ii.  26). 

Confine   is   also  here   used   in  its  classic  sense — limits  or 
boundaries. 

23.  Civil  :  uncivil,  are  words  that  in  Shakespeare  have 
a  more  classic  sense  than  modern  usage  admits.  They 
refer  to  civis,  the  State.  Civil  means  (not  polite  but) 
subject  to  public  law  ;  organically,  and  as  a  rule  amicably, 
united  to  the  State  ; — civil  refers  not  to  mere  individual 
character,  but  to  public  life.  What  is  civil  may  then  be 
very  destructive  ; — we  speak  now  of  civil  war — but  not  of 
"civil  butchery,"  "civil  blows,"  "civil  broils,"  "civil 
dissensions,"  "civil  enmity,"  "civil  strife,"  "a  civil 
monster," — all  of  which  are  met  with  in  Shakespeare. 

The  King  of  Heaven  forbid  our  lord  the  King 

Should  so,  with  civil  and  uncivil  arms, 

Be  rush'd  upon. 

{Rich.  II.  III.  iii.  loi). 

The  uncivil  Kernes  of  Ireland  are  in  arms. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  310). 

The    classic   sense    survives    most   clearly    in   the   words 
civilized,  uncivilized. 

24.  Collect :  Latin  colligo,  gather  together.  The  classic 
sense  includes  mental  collection,  put  or  join  together 
logically,  make  deductions,  and  it  is  once  used  in  this 
sense  by  Shakespeare  : — 


The  reverent  care  I  bear  unto  my  lord 

n  the  di 
(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  34). 


Made  me  collect  these  dangers  in  the  duke. 


Be  collected, 

No  more  amazement  ;  tell  your  piteous  heart 

There's  no  harm  done. 

{Temp.  I.  ii.  13). 


COLLECT,    COLLECTION,    COMFORT.  327 

Be  collected  means  keep  your  mind  in  a  calm  and  reason- 
able state. 

"  Methinks  solitariness  collecteth  the  mind,  as  shutting 
the  eyes  doth  the  sight."     ("  Life  "  I.  321). 

"I  will  undertake,  by  collecting  the  styles,  to  judge 
whether  he  were  the  author  or  no."   (Bacon's  "  Apology  "). 

"He  can  collect  upon  things  that  formerly  have  not 
so  well  succeeded,  as  well  what  to  amend  as  what  to 
avoid.     ("Life"  V.  176). 

25.  Collection  has  a  cognate  meaning.  Collectio  is  used 
by  Seneca  in  the  sense  of  inference — conclusion. 

When  I  waked,  I  found 

This  label  on  my  bosom  ;  whose  containing 

Is  so  from  sense  in  hardness,  that  I  can 

Make  no  collection  of  it. 

(Cymb.  V.  v.  429). 

Her  speech  is  nothing, 

Yet  the  unshaped  use  of  it  doth  move 

The  hearers  to  collection. 

{Ham.  IV.  V.  7). 

"  And  this  is  no  other  collection  than  Demosthenes  in 
like  cases  doth  often  use  and  iterate."     ("  Life  "  V.  177). 

Hooker  says  : — "This  kind  of  comprehension  in  Scripture 
being  therefore  received,  still  there  is  doubt  how  far  we 
are  to  proceed  by  collection/'     ("  Eccles,  Pol."  I.  xiv.  2). 

26.  Comfort :  in  its  classic  sense  from  con — cnui,  and 
fortis,  to  strengthen  ;  a  legal  term,  signifying  aiding, 
abetting,  helping,  supporting  by  any  means,  material  or 
otherwise. 

If  I  find  him  comforting  the  king,  it  will  stuff  his  suspicion  more 
fully.  {Lear  III.  v.  21). 

Why  dost  not  comfort  mo  and  help  me  out  ? 

{Tit.  A.  Il.iii.  209). 

"If  neighbour  Princes  should  patronize  and  comfort 
rebels"  Bacon's  "Henry  VH."  (Works  VI.  65),  and  in 
two  other  passages. 


328         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

27.  Complement:  Latin  complco,  fill  up,  finish,  make 
complete  or  perfect.  Once  in  Shakespeare  is  this  word 
used  in  a  sense  derived  from  the  word  compleo,  and  the 
effect  is  curious  and  subtle  : — 

When  my  outward  action  doth  demonstrate 
The  native  act  and  figure  of  my  heart 
In  complciucnt  externe,  'tis  not  long  after 
But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  my  sleeve 
For  daws  to  peck  at  :  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

(Oth.  I.  i.  61). 

Schmidt  says  this  means  "in  outward  appearance."  I 
think  the  meaning  is  fuller  and  stronger,  and  the  Latin 
supplies  the  key.  The  passage  may  be  paraphrased, — 
*'  When  I  give  a  complete  external  representation  of  all 
that  my  heart  contains." 

28.  Composition:  from  the  Latin  compono,  composui, — join, 
bring  together ;  used  once  as  equivalent  to  coherence, 
consistency,  i.e.,  what  can  be  put  together  consistently  and 
intelligibly  : — 

There  is  no  composition  in  these  news 

That  gives  them  credit.  {Otli  I.  iii.  i). 

29.  Composure:  from  the  same  Latin  root,  meaning  a  union 
or  junction  : — "  It  was  a  strong  composure  a  fool  could  dis- 
unite." {Tro.  Cr.  IL  iii.  108).  Elsewhere  it  means  com- 
position or  structure  :  but  even  in  this  use  the  classic  sense 
is  probably  intended  as  an  augmentation  of  the  meaning, — 

His  composure  must  be  rare  indeed 
When  these  things  cannot  blemish.- 

{A  11 1.  CI.  I.iv.  22). 

meaning  either  the  qualities  which  in  their  union  form  his 
character,  or  their  strong  and  secure  combination  : — 

Thank  the  heavens,  Lord,  thou  art  of  sweet  composure. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  iii.  251). 

30.  Compound:    Latin  compono,   adjust,   arrange,  settle, 
come  to  an  agreement  : — 


CONCENT,  CONGREEING.  CONDUCE.         329 

Till  you  coiiipoiiiid  whose  right  is  worthiest, 
We,  for  the  worthiest,  hold  this  right  from  both. 

{John  II.  i.  281). 

If  you  think  it  meet  compound  with  him  by  the  year. 

{Mars.  M.  IV.  ii.  24). 

We  will  coinponnd  this  quarrel, 

{Tani.S.\.n.2>o). 

31.  Concent.  Latin  concino,  conccntus :  sing  together  or 
in  concert,  or  concord, — harmoniously.  Metaphorically  it 
expresses  the  analogy  between  music  and  other  kinds  of 
harmony  : — 

For  Government,  though  high  and  low  and  lower 
Put  into  parts,  doth  keep  in  one  concent ; 
Congreemg  in  a  full  and  natural  close, 
Like  music.  {Hen.  V.  I.  ii,  180). 

Congreeing  is  also  a  new  word,  classically  constructed 
if  not  classically  derived.  It  is  probably  an  echo  of 
congrcdior  {congressus),  or  of  congeno. 

Bacon  in  a  speech,  referring  to  the  dealings  of  the 
Parliament  with  the  King,  said,  "In  concent,  where  tongue- 
strings,  not  heart-strings,  make  the  music,  that  harmony 
may  end  in  discord."     ("  Life  "  IV.  177). 

Their  spirits  are  so  married  in  conjunction  with  the  participation 
of  society  that  they  flock  together  in  concent  {i.e.  in  vocal  unison)  like 
so  many  wild  geese.  {2  Hen.  IV.  V.  i.  76). 

In  all  the  passages  where  concent  is  thus  referred  to  we 
may  trace  the  teaching  of  Bacon's  Philosophia  Prima.  (See 
De  Aug.  III.  i). 

32.  Conduce.  The  same  range  of  meaning  that  belongs 
to  the  Latin  word  conduco,  is  given  to  the  word  conduce. 
The  primary  meaning  is  bring  together,  assemble, 
collect : — as  in  the  following  passage, — 

Within  my  soul  tliere  doth  conduce  a  fight 
Of  this  strange  nature,  that  a  thing  inseparate 
Divides  more  wider  than  the  sky  and  earth. 

(7>()  Cr.  V.  ii.  147). 


330  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Cowden  Clarke  says,  **  Conduce  is  here  used  in  its 
classical  sense  of  lead  together,  assemble  ;  and  a  fight  re- 
presents the  elements  of  a  fight,  the  contending  forces,  the 
tumultuous  feelings,  the  battling  emotions  that  surge  and 
meet  tumultuously  with  the  speaker's  soul,  brought 
together  by  the  strength  of  passion," 

In  the  only  other  passage  in  Shakespeare  where  this 
word  is  used,  a  secondary  sense  of  conduco  is  implied,  viz., 
contribute  to  something  by  being  useful  ;  like  condticere  ad 
vitcB  commoditatem  of  Cicero  : — 

The  reasons  you  allege  do  more  conduce 

To  the  hot  passion  of  distemper'd  blood, 

Tlian  to  make  up  a  free  determination 

'Twixt  right  and  wrong. 

(Tro.  C/.  II.  ii.  i68). 

33.  Conduct  (substantive)  from  the  same  Latin  word  :  as 
a  noun  substantive  it  means  guidance  or  leading  : — and 
consequently  the  channel  along  which  an  object  passes  to 
reach  its  destination  : — 

My  election 
Is  led  on  in  theco;;(///c/  of  my  will. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  ii.  61). 

The  preposition  in  fixes  the  meaning  to  be,  channel : 
while  the  verb  led  on  aids  the  primary  sense  : — 

Extinguishing  his  conduct  {i.e.  the  lamp)  in  this  case. 

(Lucrece  313). 

Bacon  advised  the  Queen,  in  shewing  favour  to  Essex,  to 
make  use  of  such  persons  as  could  not  appropriate  thanks  to 
themselves,  "Some  such  as  could  not  be  thought  but  a 
mere  conduct  of  her  own  goodness."  ("Apology."  "  Life  " 
in.  149). 

34.  Confine:  Confincless  :  U  neon  finable  :  In  Latin  co^/jju's, 
is  the  adjective  of  which  confine  is  the  corelative  sub- 
stantive: —  bordering,  adjoining,  and  so  a  border  or 
boundary,  or  limit,  encircling,  enclosing  a  thing  :  — 


CONFIX.    CONGRUENT.    CONSEQUENCE.  33I 

The  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 

To  his  confine. 

{Ham.  I.  i.  154). 

Esteem  him  as  a  lamb,  being  compared 

With  my  confineless  harms. 

{Mach.  IV.  iii.  54). 

Thou  II nco)i finable  baseness. 

(il/d-r.  ir.  II.  ii.  21). 

meaning,  thou  fellow  of  unlimited,  unbounded  baseness. 
See  Circumscription. 

35.  Confix  :  Latin  configo,  fixi — fasten  together,  transfix. 
Used  once  only. 

Or  else  for  ever  be  confixed  here 

A  marble  monument. 

{Meas.  M.  V.  i.  232). 

36.  Congreeing.     (See  31), 

37.  Congruent :    Latin   congnicns,    suitable,  appropriate : 
once  only. 

I  spoke  it,  tender  juvenal,  as  a  congruent  epitheton,  appertaining 
to  thy  young  days.  (L.  L.  L.  I.  ii.  14). 

38.  Consequence :  Latin  consequor,  follow  after,  ensue  as 
an  effect. 

He  closes  with  you  in  this  consequence. 

{Ham.  II.  i.  44). 

i.e.,  he  falls  into  conversation  on  the  track  of  the  infor- 
mation or  suggestions  you  have  given.  This  subtle  use  of 
the  w^ord  may  be  implied  in  other  cases  where  the  ordinary 
sense  may  suffice  :  ex.  gr.  : — 

The  instruments  of  darkness  tell  us  truths, 

Win  us  with  honest  trifles,  to  betray  us 

In  deepest  eonseijuence. 

{Macb.  I.  iii.  124). 

If  the  assassination 
Could  trammel  up  the  consequence,  etc. 

{lb.  I.  vii.  2). 

The  classic  sense  gives  depth,  richness  and  fulness  to  the 
.  meaning. 


332         SHAKESPEARE     STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

3g.  Consign  :  represents  the  Latin  consigno,  subscribe, 
seal  to,  ratif}',  confirm,  yield. 

All  lovers  young,  all  lovers  must 
Consign  to  thee,  and  come  to  dust. 

{Cymb.  IV.  ii.  274). 

Augment,  or  alter,  as  your  wisdom  best 

Shall  see  advantageable  for  our  dignit}',  .   .  . 

And  we'll  consign  thereto. 

(Henry  V.  V.  ii.  87). 

God  consigning  to  my  good  intents. 

(2  Hen.  II'.  V.  ii.  143). 

40.  Consist :  The  Latin  word  consisio  means,  take  one's 
stand,  or  keep  a  position  ;  hold  one's  ground. 

If  we  can  make  our  peace 
Upon  sucli  large  terms,  and  so  absolute 
As  our  conditions  shall  consist  upon. 
Our  peace  shall  stand  as  firm  as  rocky  mountains. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  i.  185). 

Welcome  is  peace,  if  he  on  peace  consist 

{I'ericl.  I.  iv.  St,). 

In  the  Novum  Organum  L  48  we  find,  Gliscit  intellectus 
humanus,  neque  consisiere  aut  acquiescere  potest — the 
mind  of  man  is  all  ablaze,  and  cannot  settle  or  rest. 
Bacon  often  uses  this  word  in  its  classic  sense :  he  speaks 
of  "  abstinences  and  observancies  which  make  the  mind 
most  to  consist  in  itself."  ("Adv."  IL  xi.  2.  Works  IIL  380). 
He  speaks  of  "  praemium  and  poena  whereby  civil  states 
consist."  {lb.  XXIL  6.  p.  438).  Referring  to  the  con- 
spiracy of  Lopez,  and  the  dangers  attending  it,  he  says, 
"Upon  so  narrow  a  point  consisted  the  safety  of  her 
Majesty's  life."     ("  Life  "  L  285). 

41.  Consiringcd :  Latin  constringo,  bind  together,  string 
up  like  a  bundle,  and  so  give  coherence  or  consistence. 
Constringere  sarcinam.     It  occurs  only  once, — 

Tlie  dreadful  spout 
Which  shipmen  do  the  hurricano  call, 


CONSTRINGED.    CONTAIN.  333 

Consiringed  in  mass  by  the  almighty  sun. 

[Tro.  Cr.  V.  ii.  173). 

Assensum  itaque  constringit  {i.e.,  syllogismus)  non  res 
{Nov.  Org.  I,  xiii.).  The  syllogism  grasps,  i.e.  holds  fast, 
governs,  or  commands  assent ;  but  does  not  lay  hold  of  the 
thing  itself;  the  syllogism  ties  up  the  conclusion  in  a  sort 
of  bundle  or  mass,  but  does  not  in  a  corresponding  manner 
command  the  intellect,  by  presenting  the  fact. 

42.  Contain:  in  the  sense  of  contineo,  i.e.,  i.  Restrain, 
hold  in  check,  ii.  Hold  together,  encompass,  as  by  a 
band  or  girdle. 

i.         Fear  not,  my  lord,  we  can  coniain  ourselves. 

{Tain.  SJi.  Ind.  I.  100). 

O  contain  3-ourself ; 
Your  passion  draws  ears  hither. 

{Tro.  Cr.  V.  ii.  180). 

ii.         This  little  abstract  doth  contain  tliat  large 

Which  died  in  Geffrey. 

{-JoJin  II.  i.  loi). 

Leaving  his  body  as  a  paradise 

To  envelope  and  contain  celestial  spirits. 

{Hen.  V.  I.  i.  30). 

"  Envelope  and  contain"  appears  in  variation  as  "clasp 
and  contain,"  in  the  Essay  "Of  the  true  greatness  ot 
Kingdoms."  "  I  have  marvelled  sometimes  at  Spain,  how 
they  clasp  and  contain  so  large  dominions  with  so  few 
natural  Spaniards." 

Bacon  speaks  of  *'  Religion,  being  the  chief  band  of 
human  society;  it  is  a  happy  thing  when  itself  is  well  con- 
tained  within  the  true  band  of  Unity."  (Essay  of  "  Unity 
in  Religion  ").  Both  i.  and  ii.  are  curiously  combined  in 
the  vehement  words  of  Coriolanus  : — 

Measureless  liar  !  Thou  hast  made  m\-  heart 
Too  great  for  what  contains  it. 

{Cor.  \'.  vi.  103). 


334         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

See  in  further  elucidation  of  this  Ant.  CI.  IV.  xiv.  39, 
quoted  under  the  section  Continent  47. 

43.  Content  :  from  the  same  root  ;  the  space  defined  by  a 
boundary. 

Then  though  my  heart's  content  firm  love  doth  bear, 
Nothing  of  that  sliall  from  mine  eyes  appear. 

(Tro.  Cr.  I.  ii.  320). 

There  is  a  double  meaning — what  my  heart  encloses  ;  or 
that  which  is  shut  up  in  my  heart  ;  the  enclosing,  or  the 
contents. 

There  is  a  play  upon  words,  i.e.,  a  combination  of  the 
sense  of  satisfaction,  with  the  sense  of  inclusion,  in  the 
following  use  of  the  word  content : — 

Her  grace  in  speech, 
Her  words  y'clad  with  wisdom's  majesty, 
flakes  me  from  wondering  fail  to  weeping  joys, 
Sucli  is  the  fuhiess  of  m}'  heart's  content. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  I.  i.  32). 

44.  Continent:  the  same  meaning  from  the  same  root; 
but  it  occurs  more  frequentl}'.  Shakespeare  calls  the 
chest,  or  thorax,  the  continent  of  the  heart, — the  box  or 
enclosure  which  contains  it  : — 

O  cleave  \\\y  sides  ! 

Heart,  once  be  stronger  than  thy  continent, 

Crack  thy  frail  case  ! 

(.-J;;/.  C/.  IV.  xiv.  39). 

The  rivers  .  .  .  have  overborne  their  continents. 

{M.  N.  D.  II.  i.  92). 

I  pray  }'0u  have  a  continent  forbearance  till  the  speed  of  his  rage 
goes  slower.  {Lear  I.  ii.  181). 

Here's  the  scroll, 
The  continent  and  sumniar}'  of  my  fortune. 

{M.  Ven.  III.  ii.  130;. 

Any  surface,  however  small,  may  be  a  continent : 
ex.  gr. : — twenty  thousand  men  may  "  fight  for  a  plot  "  of 
ground : — 


CONTRACTION.    CONTRIVE.  335 

Which  is  not  tomb  enough  and  continent 
To  hide  the  slain. 

{Ham.  IV.  iv.  64). 

The  classic  sense  of  contineo, — restrain,  keep  within 
bounds,  is  also  found  : — 

My  desire  ...  all  continent  impediments  would  o'erbear 
That  did  oppose  my  will. 

{iMacb.  IV.  iii.  63). 

The  line  from  M.  N.  D.  answers  to  the  continente  ripa  of 
Horace.  Bacon  uses  these  words  in  a  precisely  similar 
way.  "  If  there  be  no  fulness  then  is  the  continent  greater 
than  the  content."  ("  Advancement  of  Learning  "  I.  i.  3. 
Works  III.  265).  "These  two  nations  are  situate  upon 
the  continent  of  one  island.''  ("  Life  "  III.  68).  Continent 
is  one  of  the  words  pointed  out  by  Hallam  as  indicating 
classic  scholarship  in  the  poet. 

45.  Contraction :  once  used  ;  contralto,  contractus,  draw 
together,  come  to  an  agreement, — as  in  marriage  : — • 

O  such  a  deed 
As  from  the  body  of  contraction  plucks 
The  very  soul. 

{Ham.  III.  iv.  45). 

46.  Contrive.     When  Shakespeare  writes  : — 

Please  ye  we  may  contrive  this  afternoon. 

{Tain.  Sli.  I.  ii.  276). 

he  uses,  with  unusual  audacity,  a  Latin  word  in  a  sense 
not  very  common  in  Latin,  and  utterly  anomalous  for 
English, — in  the  sense  of  wear  away,  spend,  consume. 
Terence  writes,  Ambulando  totiini  hunc  contrivi  diem  (quoted 
by  Staunton).  Bacon  also  uses  the  Latin  word  in  the 
same  way,  In  meditationibus  et  commentationibus  ingenii 
infinitum  tempus  contriverunt.     {Nov.  Org.  I.  112). 

It  seems  to  me  that  this  Latin  sense  of  the  word  contrive 
is  secreted  in  the  "  waste  of  time,"  referred  to  in  the  follow- 
ing passages : — 


336         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

In  companions 
That  do  converse  and  waste  tlie  time  toj^ethei-,  &c. 

{Mcr.  V.III.  iv,  II). 

I  like  tliis  place, 
And  willingly  would  waste  my  time  in  it. 

{As  You  Like  It  II.  iv.  94). 

There  are  several  other  passages  in  which  the  wasting  of 
time  is  referred  to  in  a  sense  that  belongs  to  the  same 
usage  as  the  classic  sense  of  contrive,  which  is  found  only 
in  the  one  passage  above  quoted. 

47.  Conveniences :  convenio,  agree  with,  harmonize  ;  or 
as  an  impersonal  verb  convenit,  it  is  fitting,  suitable, 
becoming,  seemly,  adapted.  Quod  convenit  is  probably 
understood  in  the  following  passage  : — 

For  the  want  of  these  required  conveniences,  her  delicate  tender- 
ness will  find  itself  abused.  {Oili.  II.  i.  234). 

48.  Convent.  The  same  impersonal  verb,  convenit,  is 
implied  in  : — 

When  that  is  known  and  golden  time  convents. 

{Twelfih  Night  V,  i.  391). 

Bacon  said  to  Talbot  in  his  charge,  ''  By  your  variety 
and  vacillation  you  lost  the  acceptable  time  of  the  first 
grace,  which  was  not  to  have  convented  you.  ("  Life  "  V. 
12), — the  acceptable  time  did  not  become  applicable  to  you 
— was  not  suited  to  you. 

49.  Conversation :  this  word  is  used  in  a  very  remark- 
able way  in  one  passage,  where  no  verbal  interchange  of 
discourse  can  be  alluded  to,  the  only  speech  is  that  which 
passes  between  the  moods  and  thoughts  of  the  same 
person.     The  passage  is  as  follows  : — Helena  speaks, 

My  lord,  your  son  made  me  to  think  of  this  ; 
Ellse  Paris  and  the  medicine  and  the  king 
Had,  from  the  conversation  of  my  thoughts. 
Haply  been  absent  then. 

{All's  Well  I.  iii.  238). 

On  this  Cowden  Clarke  gives  the  following  interesting 


CONVICTED.       CONVINCE.  337 

comment: — "The  pertinent  and  poetical  use  which 
Shakespeare  makes  of  this  word  here,  might,  one  would 
think,  be  sufficient  refutation  to  those  who  undervalue  his 
knowledge  of  classical  language.  Conversation  is  here 
employed  m  the  sense  as  derived  from  the  Latin  con- 
versatio,  which  strictly  means,  'turning  or  whirling  about,' 
as  well  as  interchanged  discourse.  The  word  in  this 
passage  has  a  finely  expressive  effect,  as  conveying  the 
whirl,  the  tossing  to  and  fro  in  ceaseless  secret  discussion 
of  Helen's  toiling  thoughts." 

When  Bacon  (Essay  of  "  Friendship  ")  says  that  "  a  man 
tosseth  his  thoughts,"  much  the  same  idea  is  suggested  as 
that  which  Cowden  Clarke  finds  in  the  word  conversation. 
Edward  Fitzgerald  was  especially  struck  by  these  words  of 
Bacon,  and  says,  "  I  know  not  from  what  metaphor  Bacon 
took  his  'tosseth.'"  The  passage  in  Shakespeare,  thus 
expounded,  appear  to  me  to  give  a  complete  answer  to 
Mr.  Fitzgerald's  perplexity. 

50.  Convicted  :  once  only  used  in  Shakespeare,  and  then 
it  is  really  the  past  participle  of  the  word  convince  :  as  in 
the  Latin  convinccre  changes  to  convictus — vanquished, 
defeated,  conquered. 

So  by  a  roaring  tempest  on  the  flood, 

A  whole  armado  of  convicted  sail 

Is  scattered.  Cfoliii  III.  iv.  2). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  convict  in  the  same  sense.  He 
refers  to  recusants  who  "have  been  convicted  and  con- 
firmed, and  have  not  received  the  Sacrament  once  a  year." 
(Charge  to  Verge.  "Life"  IV.  267).  Also — of  heresies 
and  corruptions  of  the  Church  "already  acknowledged  and 
convicted.''  ("' Life"  L  83).  In  observations  on  a  Libel 
he  undertakes  "to  discover  the  malice,  and  reprove  and 
convict  the  untruths  thereof."  ("  Life  "  I.  150). 

51.  Convince,  also  from  the  same  root, — defeat,  overcome. 

His  two  cliambcilains 
Will  I  with  wine  and  wassail  so  convince. 

{Macb.  I.  vii.  63). 


33S  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Their  malady  coirt'inccs  the  great  assay  of  art. 

(//'.  IV.  iii.  142). 

Time  this  truth  shall  ne'er  coiii'incc. 

[Pc-rici.  I.  ii.  123). 

Your  Italy  contains  none  so  accomplished  a  courtier  to  convince 
the  honour  of  my  mistress.  (Cviub.  I.  iv.  103). 

Bacon  in  his  Essay  of  "Atheism,"  and  elsewhere,  speaks 
of  Natural  Theology  as  sufficient  "to  convince  Atheism, 
but  not  to  inform  religion "  (See  Inform).  Special 
providencies  he  speaks  of  as  things  which  serve  not  only 
to  console  the  minds  of  the  faithful,  but  to  strike  and  con- 
vince the  consciences  of  the  wicked  :  "  "ad  percellendas  et 
convincendas  conscientias  improborum."      (Works.  I.  516). 

52.  Crescive :  occurs  once  only  ;  from  cresco,  grow. 

Grew,  like  the  summer  grass,  fastest  by  night, 

Unseen,  yet  crescive  in  his  faculty. 

{Hen.  V.  I.  i.  65). 

53.  Crisp:  Latin  Crispus  (of  hair)  curled;  (of  things) 
curled,  uneven,  waving — in  wavering  motion,  quivering. 
It  occurs  three  times,  always  with  a  classic  sense  : — 

Leave  your  crisp  channels  (to  the  Naiads) 

{Temp.  IV.  i.  130). 

(The  river  Severn)  Hid  his  crisp  head  in  the  hollow  bank. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.  io6). 

All  the  abhorred  births  below  crisp  heaven 
Whereon  Hyperion's  quickening  fire  doth  shine. 

{Tinion  IV.  iii.  183). 

As  to  the  passage  from  the  Tempest,  it  is  suggested  by 
Cowden  Clarke,  that  crisp  may  either  mean  curled  (Ariel 
rides  on  the  "  curled  clouds  ")  or,  perhaps  preferably,  it 
may  mean  shining,  glistening,  brilliant,  from  cnspare, 
which  means,  in  some  cases,  cause  to  shine.  In  any  case 
the  interpretation  of  the  word  comes  from  the  Latin. 
Bacon  says,  "  Bulls  are  more  crisp  on  the  head  than 
cows:"    and    he    speaks    of   "quantity,    crispation,    and 


DECIMATION.       DEFUSED.       DEGENERATE.  339 

colours  "  as  qualities  of  hair  and  feathers  ;  and  that  heat 
causes  pilosity  and  crispation.  See  Syl.  Syl.  852.  Milton, 
in  his  classic  way,  speaks  of  "crisped  brooks."  ("  Par.  L," 
IV.  237) 

54.  Decimation.  Dr.  Abbott  ("  Shak.  Gram.,"  p.  14) 
points  out  that  Shakespeare  uses  the  word  ^^  decimation  in 
its  technical  sense,  for  a  tithed  death  "  Decimo  is  **  to 
select  by  lot  every  tenth  man  for  punishment." 

By  decimation,  and  a  tithed  death 

....  take  thou  the  destined  tenth, 

And  by  the  hazard  of  the  spotted  die, 

Let  die  the  spotted.  {Tiinon  V.  iv.  31). 

Here  the  plentiful  punning  is  very  Baconian. 

55.  Defused :  Latin  defundo,  dcfiisns  ;  or  diffused,  difnndo, 
diffiisus,  pour  down,  or  pour  out ;  is  used  to  indicate  what 
is  wild,  irregular,  scattered — with  a  metaphorical  allusion 
to  water  that  is  spilt,  and  loses  its  form.  Kent,  in  disguise, 
says. 

If  but  as  well  I  other  accents  borrow 

That  can  my  speecli  defuse    .     .     . 

{Lear  I.  iv.  i). 

Let  them  from  forth  a  saw-pit  rush  at  once 

Witli  some  diffused  song. 

(Merry  Wives  IV.  iv.  53). 

Diffused  attire — and  everything  that  seems  unnatural. 

{Hen.  V.  V.  ii.  61). 

Defused  infection  of  a  man. 

{Rich.  III.  I.  ii.78). 

56.  Degenerate :  correlative  to  generous  {q.v.)  to  imply 
loss  of  that  which  is  implied  by  genus :  high  birth,  noble 
descent.  Hence  it  implies  loss  of  caste  ;  forfeiture  of  the 
credit  or  prestige  belonging  to  rank.  The  word  is  gener- 
ally applied  to  persons  well  born  v.ho  disgrace  their 
iineage  :  it  casts  a  slur  on  their  legitimacy. 

Can  it  be 
That  so  degenerate  a  strain  as  tliis 


340         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Should  once  set  footing  in  your  generous  bosoms  ? 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  ii.  153). 

Degenerate  bastard  I     I'll  not  trouble  thee  ! 

{Lear  I.  iv.  275). 

Tigers,  not  daughters  .  .  .  most  barbarous,  most  degenerate. 

{lb.  IV.  ii.  40). 

57.  Deject.  Latin  dcjicio,  dcjcctus :  cast  down,  dri\'e 
out. 

Reason  and  respect 
Make  livers  pale,  and  lustihood  deject. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  ii.  49). 

i.e.,  cautious  carefulness  breeds  cowardice,  and  casts  away 
manly  strength. 

We  may  not  .  .  .  once  deject  the  courage  of  our  minds 

Because  Cassandra's  mad. 

{lb.  121). 

These  are  the  only  instances  in  which  deject  is  used  as  a 
verb.  Once  it  occurs  as  an  adjective  : — Ophelia  speaks  of 
herself  as  "of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched."  {Ham. 
III.  i.  163). 

58.  Delated :  Latin  defero,  delatus,  primarily  means  bear 
or  bring  away,  carry  off — thence  to  deliver,  report :  and  in 
a  legal  sense  to  bring  anyone's  name  into  court  in  accusa- 
tion, to  denounce.  In  the  sense  of  deliver  over,  it  occurs, 
in  Hamlet, — 

Giving  to  you  no  further  personal  power 

To  business  with  the  King,  more  tlian  the  scope 

Of  these  delated  articles  allow.  {Ham.  I.  ii.  36). 

In  the  combined  sense  of  being  carried  away,  and 
accused,  the  word  probably  occurs  in  a  passage  where  it  is. 
misprinted  : — 

Aye  !  but  to  die,  and  go  we  know  not  where 

.  .  .  and  the  delated  spirit 

To  bathe  in  liery  floods,  or  to  reside 

In  thrilling  region  of  thick  ribbed  ice,"  etc. 

{Meas.for  Meas.  III.  i.  118).. 


DELATION.  341 

Cowden  Clarke  suggests  delated  instead  of  the  usual 
reading  delighted,  which  is  not  applicable  to  the  situation  ; 
while  the  classic  sense  of  delated,  implying  that  the  spirit 
is  wafted  away,  and  at  the  same  time  accused  and  led  awa}' 
to  judgment,  exactly  accords  with  the  sense  of  the  passage. 
Cowden  Clarke  confirms  this  reading  by  a  reference  to 
Bacon's  use  of  the  same  word :  speaking  of  sound,  as 
carried  through  the  air,  "To  try  exactly  the  time  wherein 
sound  is  delated,  let  a  man  stand  in  a  steeple,"  etc.,  etc. 
,  .  .  "it  is  certain  that  the  delation  of  light  is  in  an 
instant."  {Syl.  Syl.  209).  That  delated  is  the  right  word 
is,  I  think,  almost  proved  by  a  remarkably  corresponding 
sentence  in  Bacon's  Latin.  I  can  scarcely  think  this  an 
accidental  resemblance.  The  words  are — Cum  forte 
mens  humana  ad  veritatem  aliquem  casu  quopiam  tan- 
quam  secunda  tempestate  delata  acquiesceret  : — When 
the  mind  by  some  chance  has  found  repose  in  any  truth  as  if 
delated  by  a  prosperous  whirlwind.  (Temp.  Part.  Max. 
Works  III.  529-30).  This  is  the  delated  condition  de- 
scribed in  the  lines  almost  immediately  following  : — 

To  be  imprisoned  in  the  viewless  winds, 
And  blown  with  restless  violence  about 
The  pendent  world. 

{lb.  124). 

59.  Delation,  from  the  same  root,  has  the  same  sense  of 
whirling  and  accusing.  lago,  by  abrupt  interruptions 
in  his  speech,  as  if  he  were  checking  some  unwelcome 
utterance,  alarms  Othello,  who  finds  in  "these  stops,"  not 
such  customary  tricks  as  a  knave  might  use, — 

But  in  a  man  that's  just 
They're  close  delations,  working  from  the  heart 
That  passion  cannot  rule. 

(0///.  III.  iii.  122). 

i.e.,  they  are  secret  accusations,  swiftly  conveyed  by 
involuntary  gesture  and  agitated  utterance.  Bacon  also 
says,  "Water  doth  help  the  delation  of  echo,  as  well  as  it 


342         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES   IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

helpeth  the  delation  of  original  sounds."  {Syl.  Syl.  243). 
"Both  (sights  and  sounds)  are  of  sudden  and  easy  genera- 
tion and  delation.'"'     {lb.  257). 

60.  Demerits  :  has  in  its  classic  sense  exactly  the  opposite 
meaning  to  that  which  it  bears  in  vernacular  speech  ;  i.e., 
it  does  not  refer  to  faults,  worthy  of  blame,  but  to  good 
qualities,  which  are  to  be  commended.  Deinero  is  an 
extensive  form  of  mereo,  which  primarily  means  only  to 
gain,  or  acquire,  and  then  to  earn,  or  deserve.  Demerco 
means  I  get  by  merit,  deserve. 

My  demerits 
May  speak,  unbonnetted,  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
As  this  that  I  have  reach'd. 

{OtJi.  I.  ii.  22). 

Opinion,  that  so  sticks  on  Marcius,  shall 
Of  his  demerits  rob  Cominus. 

{Cor.  I.  i.  275). 

The  ordinary  meaning  of  the  word,  as  now  employed,  was 
current  in  Shakespeare's  time,  and  in  one  instance  he  has 
so  used  it,  though  even  here  the  demerits  are  not  real,  but 
arise  from  the  false  estimate  of  a  tyrant  : — 

Not  for  their  own  doiicrils,  but  for  mine. 
Fell  slaughter  on  their  souls. 

{Much.  IV.  iii.  276). 

So  that  the  classic  use  was  one  of  election  in  the  poet's 
mind. 

61.  Demise:  Latin  demitto,  let  something  go  down,  or 
descend,  let  fall ;  a  legal  term  used  once  by  Shakespeare, 
and  by  no  other  poet.  The  one  instance  of  its  use  is  the 
following  : — 

Tell  me  what  state,  what  dignity,  what  honour. 
Canst  thou  demise  to  an}^  child  of  mine  ? 

{Ric/i.  III.  IV.  iv.  246). 

62.  Depend.-  Latin  dependo,  hang  down  or  on;  hold  in 
suspense 

We'll  slip  you  for  a  season,  but  our  jealousy 


DEPRAVE.       DEPRAVATION.  343 

Does  yet  depend. 

{Cymb.  IV.  iii.  22). 

Wilt  thou  be  fast  to  my  hopes  if  I  depend  on  the  issue  ? 

{pth.  I.  iii.  369). 

63.  Deprave :  depravation :  Latin  depravo,  from  the  root 
pravus,   crooked,   not  straight,   distorted,   deformed.       By 
extension  from  the  physical  to  the  moral  sphere  it  comes 
to  mean  perverse,  vicious,  bad, — depraved.     The  primary 
meaning  then  of  the  Enghsh  word  deprave  is  to  distort, 
pervert,  misrepresent,  caricature, — to  represent  what  really 
exists  under  a  distorted  form,  not  to  invent  a  calumny,  but 
to  pervert  a  true  fact.    The  secondary  meaning  is  to  vilify, 
slander,  traduce,  calumniate  ;  and  this  is  usually  given  in 
glossaries  as  the  primary  meaning.  The  passages  in  Bacon 
in  which  the  word  is  used, — and  for  the  most  part  those  in 
Shakespeare, — are    more    accurately    interpreted    if     the 
primary  sense  of  misrepresent,  distort,  is  understood,  and 
it  seems  to  me  that  in  his  use  of  the  word  Bacon  keeps 
more  strictly  to  the  etymology  of  the  word  than  his  com- 
mentators and  globsarists  do.     The  sense  of  distortion,  or 
misrepresentation  or  caricature  is  plainly  implied  in  the 
following     phrases    used    by    Cicero  :    Quasdam     contra 
naturam  depravata ;    and,   haec  non  est  interpretatio  sed 
depravatio.     In   Bacon,  we  find  the  word  almost  always 
means  not  calumny  or  slander  (as  the  Editors  say),  but 
misinterpretation,  misrepresenting,  caricature.  The  follow- 
ing passage  illustrate  this, — "  If  afteclion  lead  a  man  to 
favour  the  less  worthy  in  desert,   let  him  do  it  without 
deprav'ng  or  disabling  the  better  deserver."     (Essay  49). 
"  That  other  conceit  that  learning  should   undermine  the 
reverence  of  laws  and  government,  is  assuredly  a  mere 
depravation  and   calumny,  without   all   shadow  of  truth." 
("Advancement  of  Learning"  I.  ii.  8).     "Many  wits  and 
industries  have  been  spent  about  the  wit  of  some  one,  [by 
expositors  of  Plato,  Aristotle  and  the  ancient  philosophers], 
whom  many  times  they  have  rather  depraved  than  illus- 
trated."    {lb.   I.   iv.    iz).       No  calumny  is  intended,   but 


344  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

simply  misinterpretation — as  in  Cicero's  Non  interpretatio 
sed  dcpravatio. 

"  It  is  the  manner  of  men  to  scandalize  and  deprave  that 
which  retaineth  the  state  and  virtue,  by  taking  advantage 
of  that  which  is  corrupt  and  degenerate.'"  {lb.  I.  iv.  i). 
Bacon's  antithesis  implies  that  scandalize  applies  to  that 
which  is  corrupt ;  deprave  to  that  which  is  degenerate,  or 
not  up  to  the  level  which  is  expected. 

Bacon,  speaking  of  the  opinions  of  Aristotle  about 
generation  and  corruption,  after  referring  to  him  with 
approval,  adds,  "  Neque  tamen  desinit  ille  vir  id  quod  ab 
eo  recte  inventum  fuit,  statim  corrumpere  et  depravere.''' 
{Nov.  Org.  II.  35),  As  he  is  referring  to  physical  theories 
the  most  natural  meaning  of  these  words  is — to  corrupt 
and  distort,  or  misrepresent. 

Bacon's  use  of  pravitas,  as=distortion,  is  illustrated  by  the 
following  : — In  verbis  autem  gradus  sunt  quidam  pravitatis 
et  error  is, — there  are  degrees  of  distortion  and  error  in  the 
use  of  words  :  privitas  and  error  are  thus  distinguished. 

The  word  deprave  is  used  in  this  same  sense, — perversion, 
misrepresentation,  in  the  Observations  on  a  Libel. 
("Life"  I.  149-150). 

There  is  a  Projnus  note  (1072)  which  throws  more  light 
on  the  sense  in  which  the  word  deprave  is  used  by  Bacon. 
Nil  tarn  bonum  est  quin  male  narrado  possit  depravarier. 
There  is  nothing  so  good  that  it  may  not  be  depraved  (dis- 
torted, caricatured,  misrepresented)  by  reporting  it  badly. 
So  Kent  tells  Lear. 

I  can  mar  a  curious  tale  in  the  telling  of  it. 

{Lear  I.  iv.  35). 

In  Shakespeare  the  same  sense  is  implied  : — 

Do  not  give  advantage 
To  stubborn  critics,  apt,  without  a  theme 

For  dcpravaiioii,  to  square  the  general  sex 
By  Cressid's  note. 

{Tro.  Cr.  V.  ii.  130). 


DEROGATE.   DEROGATION.  345 

Troilus  is  speaking, — and  he  is  really  seeking  for  some 
excuse  for  Cressida;  he  would  gladly  explain  away  sinister 
appearances,  and  not  judge  falsely,  misinterpreting,  or 
depraving  the  theme  on  which  his  censure  is  invited. 

Scambling,  out-facing,  fashion-monging  boys 
That  lie,  and  cog,  and  flout,  deprave  and  slander. 

{Much  Ado  V.  i.  94). 

Antonio,  who  is  speaking  with  uncontrollable  grief  and 
anger,  may  not  be  supposed  to  select  his  terms  with  nice 
discrimination.  But  it  is  evident  that  slander  and  deprave 
are  not  the  same,  and  that  probably  slander  was  the  more 
advanced  and  intense  meaning.  Deprave,  as  elsewhere, 
means  distorting  facts, — slander  is  evil  invention. 

In  the  one  other  passage  in  Shakespeare  where  the  word 
is  used  there  is  nothing  to  fix  the  exact  significance  of  the 
words  : — Apemantus,  the  scoffer,  speaks  : — 

Who  Hves  that's  not  depraved  or  depraves  ? 

{Timon  I.  ii.  145). 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  exact  meaning  of  this  word  has 
escaped  the  critics,  both  of  Bacon  and  Shakespeare.  The 
more  nearly  the  classic  sense  is  adhered  to,  the  more  clear 
do  the  passages  in  which  it  occurs  become. 

64.  Derogate — derogation :  Latin  derogo,  derogatus,  to 
repeal  part  of  a  law,  to  detract  from  or  diminish  anything. 
Cicero  has  de  lege  aliquid  derogare.  Derogation  means 
loss  of  caste  or  dignity,  or  estimation. 

From  her  derogate  body  never  spring 
A  babe  to  honour  her  ! 

{Lear  I.  iv.  302). 

Cloten. — Is  there  no  derogation  in  it  ? 
Lord. — You  cannot  derogate,  my  lord. 
Cloten. — Not  easily  I  think. 

Lord. — (Aside)  You  are  a  fool  granted  ;  therefore  your  issues 
being  foolish,  do  not  derogate. 

iCywb.  II.  i.  48). 


346         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

65.  Determine  : — determinate  :  —  determination  :  Latin 
determino,  determinates,  determinatio,  come  to  an  end. 
The  etymological  meaning  is  often  understood  as  a  ground 
of  the  vernacular  import.  It  is  often  used  in  a  legal  way  ; 
the  legal  usage  being  derived  from  the  radical  meaning. 

Must  all  determine  here  ?  {Cor.  III.  iii.  43). 

I  purpose  not  to  wait  on  fortune  till 

These  wars  deteniiiiie. 

{lb.  V.  iii.  119). 

It  will  detenuiiic  one  way. 

{Ant.  a.  IV.  iii.  2). 

Now  where  is  he  that  will  not  stay  so  long 
Till  his  friend,  sickness,  liath  determined  me. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  v.  81). 

The  sly,  slow  hours  shall  not  determinate 
The  dateless  limit  of  thy  dear  exile. 

(A'/t77.  //.  I.  iii.  150). 

So  should  that  l:)cauty  which  j'ou  hold  in  lease 

Find  no  determination. 

(Sonnet  13). 

My  determinate  voyage  is  mere  extravagancy. 

{Tw.N.  II.  i.  11). 

In  this  line  there  are  three  Latin  words,  only  intelligible 
by  the  help  of  a  Latin  dictionary.  See  Extravagancy  and 
mere  (post). 

66.  Digested :  Latin  digero,  gessi,  spread  abroad,  or 
distribute. 

Come  on  my  son,  in  wliom  my  house's  name 

Must  be  digested.  {Alfs  Welt  V.  iii.  73). 

67.  Dilated :  Latin  differo,  dilatus,  carry  from  each 
other,  spread  ;  or  more  probably  representing  dilato — 
spread  out,  enlarge,  amplify. 

After  them,  and  take  a  more  dilated  farewell. 

{All's  WetlU.  i.  58). 

I  will  not  praise  thy  wisdom 

Whicli  like  a  bourn,  a  pale  a  shore  confines 


DISCOLOURED.       DISSEMBLE.  347 

Thy  spacious  and  dilated  parts. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  iii.  259). 

68.  Discoloured  :  Latin  discolor,  in  various  colours,  party- 
coloured,  variegated.  Generally  applied  in  Shakespeare  to 
the  colour  of  blood  when  shed  on  the  ground. 

Or  with  their  blood  stain  this  discolour d  shore. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  i.  11). 

Many  a  widow's  husband  groveUing  lies, 
Coldly  embracing  the  discolour d  earth. 

{Joint  II.  i.  305). 

In  Marlowe  the  classic  sense  is  completely  reflected  : — • 

The  walls  were  of  discoloured  jasper  stone. 

{Hero  L.  36). 

The  colours  are  not  lost,  or  injured,  but  multiplied. 

6g.  Dissemble  :  Latin  dissiumlo,  disguise,  conceal,  feign 
that  a  thing  is  different  from  what  it  really  is.  (Quae  non 
sunt,  simulo  :  quae  sunt  ea  dissimulentur.) 

I  would  dissemble  with  ni}-  nature  where 

My  fortunes  and  my  friends  at  stake  required 

I  should  do  so  in  honour. 

[Cor.  III.  ii.  62). 

The  clown,  putting  on  a  gown  and  beard  for  disguise, 
says, — 

I'll  put  it  on  and  will   dissemble  myself  in   it,   and  I  would  I  were 

the  first  that  ever  dissembled  in  such  a  gown. 

{Tu.'.  N.  IV.  ii.  5). 

On  this  passage  Cowden  Clarke  comments  thus : — 
"Shakespeare  here  uses  the  word  dissemble  in  the  sense 
borne  by  the  Latin  word  dissimulare,  to  cloak,  disguise, 
conceal,  or  dissemble :  thus  affording  ground  for  the 
clown's  pun  while  putting  on  the  clerical  gown.  Mr. 
Stevens,  the  commentator,  sneeringly  remarks  that 
'  Shakespeare  has  here  stumbled  on  a  Latinism  ;  thus 
Ovid,  speaking  of  Achilles,  Vestc  virum  louga  dissimulatus 
erat.'     But  not  only  do  we  believe  that  Shakespeare  was 


34^^  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

far  more  intimately  and  appreciatively  acquainted  with 
Ovid  than  the  sneering  commentator  ;  we  also  believe  that 
he  never  stumbled  on  any  word  he  uses  ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  shews  a  most  special  and  discriminating  accuracy  in  the 
choice,  adaptation  and  employment  of  the  epithets  he 
introduces,  thereby  giving  one  of  the  many  proofs  that  he 
had  a  greatly  profounder  knowledge  of  classical  languages, 
and  the  true  etymology  of  his  own,  than  superficial  judges 
have  ever  been  able  to  perceive  or  willing  to  allow." 

Bacon  ("  Discourses  on  Church  Edification  ")  writes  : — 
"  That  reverence  should  be  used  to  the  Church  which  the 
good  sons  of  Noah  used  to  their  father's  nakedness,  to  help 
the  defects  thereof,  and  yet  to  dissemble  them."  ("Life" 
III.  io6). 

70.  Distract :  distraction  :  Latin  distraho,  distractus, 
drag  asunder,  divide  into  small  parcels  or  detachments. 
In  this  sense  these  words  are  sometimes  used  in  Shake- 
speare.    As  a  rule  distraction  means  madness,  lunacy. 

Our  bodies  are  our  gardens  .  .  .  we  supply  it  with  one  gender  of 
herbs,  or  distract  it  with  many. — Olh.  I.  iii.  323. 

To  the  brightest  beams  distracted  clouds  give  way. 

{All's  nV//V.  iii.  34). 

Most  worthy  sir,  you  therein  throw  away 

The  absolute  soldiership  you  have  by  land, 

Distract  your  army. 

{Ant.  CI.  III.  vii.  42). 

His  power  {i.e.  army)  went  out  in  such  distractions,  as 
Beguiled  all  spies.  {lb.  77). 

71.  Document :  is  used  once  in  its  classic  and  etymological 
sense,  from  Latin  doceo,  teach  :  give  a  lesson  or  instruction; 
dociimentum  =  2i  lesson,  or  example, — a  typical  specimen,  an 
object-lesson.  So  Tacitus  writes  {A'^r.  2,  3),  Dedimus 
profecto  grande  patientise  documentum,  a  striking  example 
of  patience.  It  occurs  only  once  in  Shakespeare.  Bacon 
writes, — "  Ethica  obsequium  Theologian  omnino  prsestare 
debet,  ej  usque  prasceptis  morigera  esse  ;  ita  tarnen  ut  ipsa. 


DOCUMENT.       DOUBLE.  349 

intra  suos  limites,  haud  pauca  sana  et  utilia  documenta 
continere  possit  "  {De  Aug.  VII.  3,  Work?  I,  732  ;  \.  20), 
implying  that  though  Ethics  is  subordinate  to  Theology, 
yet  "within  its  own  limits  it  may  furnish  man}-  sound  and 
useful  lessons.''' 

A  doctinienf  in  madness. 

(Haw.  IV.  V.  178). 

The  word  is  similarly  used  by  Spenser  ("  Fairy  Queen  " 
I.   .X.  19). 

And  that  her  sacred  book,  with  bloody  writ 
That  none  could  read,  except  she  did  them  teach. 
She  unto  him  disclosed  every  whit. 
And  heavenly  docinnents  thereout  did  preach. 

Raleigh  ("History  of  the  World")  writes, — "They  were 
stoned  to  death  as  a  document  to  others."  See  Professor 
Spencer  Baines'  "Shakespeare  Studies,"  p.  264.  Shake- 
speare's use  of  the  word  corresponds  more  exactly  to  the 
classic  sense  than  Spenser's  or  Raleigh's. 

72.  Double  :    is  used  in  a  curiously  classic  sense  in, — 

The  magnifico  is  much  beloved. 

And  hath  in  his  effect  a  voice  potential. 

As  double  as  the  Duke's. 

(0///.  I.  ii.  12). 

The  Latin  word  duplex,  among  other  sen  es,  also  may 
mean  thick,  strong,  stout.  On  the  above  passage  Theobald 
notes, — "It  is  in  truth  a  very  elegant  Grecism.  'As 
double  '  signifies  as  large,  as  extensive.  So  the  Greeks 
used  StTrXous  for  latus,  gradis,  as  well  as  duplex  ;  and  in 
the  same  manner  and  construction  the  Latins  used  their 
duplex."  The  same  classic  sense  is  evidently  intended 
in,— 

His  doubled  spirit 
Requickened  what  in  flesh  was  fatigate. 

{Cor.  II.  ii.  121). 

See  also  Fatigate.      None  of  the  Editors  of  Coriolanv% 
point  out  this  classic  use  of  the  word  doubled. 


350  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

73.  Eminent :  Latin  cuiinens,  standing  out,  conspicuous, 
lofty,  towering  above  the  rest;  niinco  is  to  jut,  or  project. 

Who  were  below  him 
He  used  as  creatures  of  another  place, 
And  bow'd  his  eminent  top  to  their  low  ranks. 

{^AlTs  Well  I.  ii.  41). 

74.  Epitheton  :  the  Greek  word  eVi'6'froi'. 

I  spoke  it,  tender  juvenal,  as  a  congruent  epitheton,  appertaining 

to  thy  young  days. 

{Love's  Labour's  Lost  I.  ii.  14). 

A  word  not  Hkely  to  have  been  used  except  by  a  classical 
scholar. 

75.  Err — errant — erring:    Latin    crro,    I  wander,    rove, 

stray. 

As  thou  lov'st  her 
Thy  love's  to  me  religious,  else  does  err. 

{Atfs  Well  II.  iii.  189).     [See  Religious]. 

Cowden  Clarke  paraphrases, — "According  as  thou  lovest 
her  thy  love,  or  loyalty  to  me,  will  be  duly  paid;  otherwise 
it  strays  from  me." 

An  erring  barbarian. 

(Oth.  I.  iii.  362). 

The  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies  to  his  confine. 

{Ham.  I.  i.  154). 

How  brief  the  life  of  man 
Runs  his  erring  pilgrimage. 

{As  Yon  Like  It  III.  ii.  137). 

Tortive  and  errant  from  his  course  of  growth. 

{Tro.  Cr.  I.  iii.  9). 

76.  Evitaie  :  Latin  cvitare,  shun,  avoid.  An  attempt, 
iiot  successful,  to  introduce  a  new  word. 

She  doth  evitate  and  shun 
A  thousand  irreligious  cursed  hours. 

{Mer.  W.  V.  v.  241). 


EXEMPT.      EXHAUST.      EXHIBITION.  35I 

The  earliest  known  use  of  the  cognate  substantive  is  the 
following  :— 

"  It  is  certain  that  in  all  bodies  there  is  an  appetite  of 
union,  and  evitation  of  solution  of  continuity."  Bacon's 
Syl.  Syl.  293.  Bacon  uses  the  Latin  word  evitare, — for 
example,  "ut  evitentur  ea  quae  incommoda."  {Nov, 
Org.  I.  57). 

jy.  Exempt .-  Latin  exinio,  cxcuiptus,  take  away,  remove, 
banished. 

Be  it  my  wrong  you  (my  husband)  are  from  me  cxcmpf. 

{Com.  Er.  II.  ii.  173). 

Stand'st  thou  not  attainted, 
Corrupted,  and  exempt  from  ancient  gentry  ? 

(i  Hen  VI.  II.  iv.  92). 

78.  Exhaust :  Latin  exhaurio,  exliaustwn,  draw  out,  (of 
liquids)  once  used  in  this  very  primitive  sense,  and  only  once. 

Spare  not  the  babe 
Whose  dimpled  smiles  from  fools  exhaust  their  mercy. 

{Tiinon  IV.  iii.  118). 

79.  Exhibition  :  Latin  exhibeo,  one  of  the  meanings  is,  to 
maintain,  support,  sustain  a  person  or  thing ;  and  in 
Shakespeare  it  is  sometimes  used  in  this  legal  sense  of 
maintenance,  allowance,  gift  or  present.  Moberly  quotes 
the  Roman  law  phrase,  Si  liberi  ali  desiderunt,  ut  a  parente 
exhibeantur.  So  we  have  exhiberc  viam,  to  keep  up  a  road, 
exhiberc  vitain,  to  support  life. 

The  King  gone  to-night  !  subscribed  his  power  ! 
Confined  to  exliibition  !  {Lear  I.  ii.  24.). 

i.e.,  restricted  to  a  fixed  sum  for  maintenance.      So  also  in 
the  following  : — 

What  maintenance  he  from  his  friends  receives, 
Like  exiiibilioii  thou  slialt  have  from  me. 

{Two  G.  V.  I.  iii.  68). 

I  crave  fit  disposition  for  my  wife 


352  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT, 

Due  reference  of  place  and  exhibition. 

{Olli.  I.  iii.  237). 

Marry,  I  would  not  do  sucli  a  thing  for  a  joint-ring  .  .  .  nor  an}^ 
petty  cxhibilion.  (//).  IV.  iii.  72). 

Tom-boys  hired  with  that  SQli-cxIiibilion 

Which  your  own  coffers  3'ield. 

{Cyinb.  I.  vi.  122). 

i.e.,  the  same  stipend  or  allowance. 

"She  received  only  a  pension  or  exhibition  out  of  his 
coffers."     (Bacon's  "Hen.  VII."  p.  228). 

80.  Exigent :  Latin  exigo,  which  may  mean  to  end,  com- 
plete, accomplish,  as  in  Horace's  Exegi  nionumentum  ceri 
per  ennuis. 

These  eyes,  like  lamps  whose  wasting  oil  is  spent, 
Wax  dim,  as  drawing  to  their  exigent. 

(I  Hen.  VI.  II.  V.  8). 

Thou  art  sworn,  Eros,  that  when  tiic  exigent  should  come,  .  .  . 

thou  then  would'st  kill  me. 

{Ant.  CI.  IV.  xiv.  62). 

81.  Exorciser: — exorcism  : — exorcist:  although  this  word  is 
now  used  exclusively  for  one  who  lays  or  dismisses  spirits* 
it  is  used  by  Shakespeare  for  summoning  or  raising  spirits; 
in  analogy  with  the  Latin  exorior,  to  come  forth,  arise, 
originate,  begin. 

Is  there  no  exorcist 
Beguiles  the  truer  oftice  of  mine  eyes  ? 
Is't  real  that  I  see  ? 

(.■i//'.s- irj/ V.  iii.305). 

Thou,  like  an  exorcist,  hast  conjured  up 

]\Iy  mortified  spirit. 

{'fnl.  Cces.  II.  i.  323). 

No  exorciser  harm  thee  ! 

{Cyinb.  IV.  ii.  276). 

Will  her  ladyship  behold  and  hear  our  exorcisms. 

(2  Hen.  17.  I.  iv.  4). 

Bacon  speaks  of  Walpole  as  "  a  blasphemous  exorcist ;  " 


EXPEDIENT.       EXPEDITION.       EXPOSTULATE.  353 

and  "wherefore  full  of  these  evil  spirits  wherewith  so  many 
exorcisms  had  possessed  him."  Squire's  Conspiracy. 
("Life"  II.  114,   115,   116). 

82.  Expedient:  Latin  expedio  (ex  pede)  free  the  feet  from 
a  snare,  hence  it  comes  to  mean  without  impediment, 
promptly,  hastily,  quickly. 

His  marches  are  expedient  to  this  town. 

(Jo//»  II.  i.  60). 

Expedient  marcli. 

{lb.  223). 

Knight  (commenting  on  John  II.  i.  60),  says,  "  Shake- 
speare always  uses  this  word  in  strict  accordance  with  its 
derivation,  as  in  truth  he  does  most  words  that  may  be 
called  learned." 

83.  Expedition  :  same  derivation  and  correlative  meaning. 

The  expedition  of  my  violent  love 
Outrun  the  pauser  reason. 

{Macb.  II.  iii.  116). 

Do  you  think  me  a  swallow,  an  arrow,  or  a  bullet  ?  Have  I,  in 
my  poor  and  old  motion,  the  expedition  of  thought. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iii.  35). 

She  will  not  fail,  for  lovers  break  not  hours, 
Unless  it  be  to  come  before  their  time  ; 
So  much  they  spur  their  expedition. 

{Tic.  G.  V.  V.  i.  4). 

Bacon  speaks  of  a  logical  method  as  "  introduced  for 
expedite  use  and  assurance  sake."  ("Advancement"  II. 
xiv.  5.     Works  III.  393). 

84.  Expostulate:  mediaeval  Latin  expostiilave,  argue, 
discuss,  inquire,  investigate  :  the  sense  of  remonstrance  is 
not  included. 

The  lime  serves  not  to  expostulate. 

(7V.  G.  V.  III.  i.  251). 

My  liege,  and  madam,  to  expostulate 
What  majesty  is,  what  duty  is,  etc. 

{Ham.  II.  ii.  86). 
z 


354         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

85.  Expulscd :   Latin    cxpulsus,   driven   out.     Used  only 
once : — 

For  ever  sliould  they  be  cxptihcd  from  France. 

(1  Hcu.  VI.  III.  iii.  25). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  frequently.  "  His  father  being  ex- 
pulsed  his  dominions  by  the  French."  ("Life"  I.  21). 
"  Learning  will  cxpuhc  business."  ("  Adv."  Works 
III.  273).  "  The  very  husks  and  shells  of  sciences,  all  the 
kernel  being  forced  and  expuked  with  the  torture  and  press 
of  the  method."  [lb.  406).  And  see  "New  Atlantis" 
(Works  in.  152). 

86.  Exsufflicate  :  Latin  ex,  sufflo,  blow  out.     Once  only. 

Such  cxsufflicatc  and  blown  surmises. 

{Otli.  III.  iii.  182). 

I.e.,  inflated;  bodiless  guesses,  bubbles  soon  blown  and  soon 
collapsed. 

87.  Extenuate  :  is  one  of  the  words  referred  to  by  Hallam 
as  an  indication  of  Shakespeare's  Latinity. 

The  law  of  Athens,  which  by  no  means  we  may  extenuate. 

{iM.  X.  D.  I.  i.  120). 

You  may  not  so  extenuate  liis  offence, 

For  I  have  had  such  faults.  (M.  M.  II.  i.  27). 

It  has  the  meaning  of  extenuo,  make  thin  or  small,  lessen, 
weaken.  Bacon,  speaking  of  the  Queen's  adverse  fortune 
in  her  youth,  says  that  such  a  condition  "  for  the  most  part 
extcnuateth  the  mind,  and  makes  it  apprehensive  of  fears." 
And  he  concludes  his  Eulogy  on  the  Queen  with — "But 
why  do  I  forget  that  words  do  extenuate  and  embase  matters 
of  so  great  weight."     ("Life"  I.  126,  142). 

88.  Extirp  :  Latin  exstirpo  :  pluck  up  by  the  root. 

It  is  impossible  to  e.xtirp  it  quite,  friar,  till  eating  and  drinking  be 
put  down.  {Meas.  M .  III.  ii.  109). 

Nor  should  that  nation  boast  it  so  with  us 
But  be  extirped  from  our  provinces. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  III.  iii.  23). 


EXTRACTING.    EXTRAVAGANT.    FACINOROUS.    FACT.       355 

It  is  worth  noting  that  this  word  is  practically  the  same  as 
extirpate,  which  is  also  used  once  [Temp.  I.  ii.  125),  By 
using  indifferently  either  the  current  or  the  classic  form, 
the  poet  shows  his  familiarity  with  both. 

8g.  Extracting :  Latin  cxiraho,  extracti,  draw  out.  Once 
used  in  a  singularly  classic  way, — in  antithesis  to  distract, 
which  is  a  word  just  used  by  the  same  speaker  ;  a  distracting 
frenzy  in  another  is  contrasted  with  an  extracting  one  in 
the  speaker's  own  mind. 

They  say,  poor  gentleman,  he's  much  distract  :  .  .  . 

A  most  extracting  frenzy  of  my  own 

From  my  remembrance  clearly  banished  his. 

{Tw.  N.  V.  i.  287). 

go.  Extravagant — extravagancy  :  Latin  extra  and  vagare, 
wander  abroad. 

My  determinate  voyage  is  mere  extravagancy. 

{Tic.  N.  II.  i.  II). 

The  extravagant  and  ening  spirit  hies  to  his  confine. 

{Ham.  I.  i.  154). 

An  extravagant  and  wheeling  stranger 
Of  here  and  everywhere. 

{0th.    I.  i.  137). 

gi.  Facinorous :  Latin  Facinus,  gen.  facinoris,  a  deed, 
•especially  a  bad  deed  or  crime.  Facinorosus,  wicked, 
atrocious.     Italian  Facinoroso,  rebellious,  contumacious. 

He's  of  a  most  facinorous  spirit, 

{All's  W.  II.  iii.  35). 

g2.  Fact :  Always  used  in  the  Latin  sense — facta,  deed, 
•and  invariably  wicked  deeds — criminal  acts. 

Damned  fact  !  how  it  did  grieve  Macbeth  ! 

(Macb,  III.  vi.  10). 

To  say  the  truth  this  fact  was  infamous. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  IV.  i.  30). 

A  fouler  /at"/  did  never  traitor  in  the  land  commit. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  I.  iii.  176). 


356         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

How  look  I, 
That  I  should  seem  to  lack  huinunity 
So  much  as  this/c7t7  comes  to  ? 

{Cymb.  III.  ii.  16). 

The  powers  to  whom  I  pray  abhor  this /etc/, 
How  can  they  then  assist  me  in  the  act. 

{Liicrccc  349). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  in  the  same  way : — "  He  forbad  all 
injuries  of  fact  or  word  against  their  persons  or  followers." 
("Hen.  VH."  Works  HI.  72).  "That  barbarous /ad." 
(7^.  132).  "That  most  wretched  and  horrible  fact." 
(Lopez  Report,  "Life"  I.  276).  "It  is  most  necessary 
that  the  Church  ...  do  damn  and  send  to  hell  for  ever 
those  facts  and  opinions."  (Essay  of  "  Unity  in  Reli- 
gion."). 

93.  Factious :  Latin  facio,  factum,  do,  act,  busy  oneself. 

Sometimes  the  word  means  simply  busy,  active  ;   usually 

its  meaning  is  the  same  as  is  still  current,  i.e.,  rebellious,, 
conspiring. 

Be  factious  (active)  for  redress  of  all  these  griefs. 

{'Jul.  Civs.  I.  iii.  118). 

You  and  3'Our  husband  Grey 
Were  fdclioiis  for  the  House  of  Lancaster. 

{Rich.  III.  I.  iii.  127). 

In  this  passage  both  senses  are  probably  mtended. 

94.  Fatigatc  :  Latin  fatigatus,  fatigued,  exhausted. 

His  doubled  spirit 
Requickened  what  in  flesh  \v^sfatii^alc. 

{Coriol.  n.  ii.  121). 

See  also  Double. 

95.  Festinate : — ly :     Latin    festino,     festinatus,    hasten,, 
speed. 

Advise  the   Duke,  where  you  are  going,  to  a  most  fcslinatc  pre- 
paration. {Lear  III.  vii.  9). 

Bring  him  fcsiinatcly  liither. 

,(/..  L.  L.  III.  i.  5). 


FINE.      FORTITUDE.      FRACTED.       FRACTION.  357 

96.  Fine  :  used  often  for  the  Latin  finis,  the  end.     The 
proverb,  finis  coronal  opus,  is  imphed  in  the  following  :  — 

All's  well  that  ends  well ;  still  i\\Q  fine's  the  crown. 

{All's  W.  IV.  iv.  35). 

Time's  office  is  io  fine  the  hate  of  foes. 

{Liicrccc  936). 

A  legal  pun  is  implied  in  the  double  use  of  fine  and  finer 
in — "  Andthe_/z;ic  is,  for  the  which  I  may  go  \.\\e  finer,  I 
will  live  a  bachelor."  (M.  Ado,  I.  i.  247.).  The  same 
pun,  much  amplified,  is  uttered  by  Hamlet  in  the  grave- 
digging  scene,  where  the  word  has  four  different  meanings  : 
"  Is  this  the  ^»g  oi  his  fines  .  .  .  to  have  his //zc  pate  full 
of_/z»t' dirt  ?  "     {Ham.  V.  i,  115.). 

Fineless,  meaning  endless,  occurs  once. 

Riches,  find  CSS,  is  as  poor  as  winter. 

(0///.  III.  iii.  173). 

97.  Fortitude  :  Latin  fortis,  strong.    The  original  sense  is 
used  in  Othello, — 

The  foititiidc  of  the  place  is  best  known  to  you. 

{Oth.  I.  iii.  222). 

g8.  Fracted  :  Latin  frango,  fractiLS,  break,  broken. 

His  heart  is  fracted. 

{Hen.  r.  II.  i.  130). 

My  reliances  on  h'ls  fracted  dates  have  smit  my  credit. 

{Tiiiioii  II.  i.  22). 

99.  Fraction  :  same  root. 

Distasteful  looks  and  hard/rat7/o//s  (broken  sentences). 

{Tiiiion  II.  ii.  220). 

Their  /yvztV/o;/  is  more  our  wish  tlian  their  faction. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  iii.  107). 

i.e.,  we  prefer  that  they  should  be  divided  among  them- 
selves than  busily  united  for  us. 

The  fractions  of  her  faitli,  orts  of  her  love, 

{lb.  V.  ii.  158). 


35^         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

100.  Fnistraii  :    Latin  frustvo,  frustrates,    deceive,    dis- 
appoint, make  to  be  of  no  effect,  vain,  useless. 

Bid  him  vicld,  being  so  fnistralc. 

{Anf.  CI.W  i    i). 

The  sea  mocks  our  fruslralc  search  on  land. 

(Temp.  III.  iii.  lo). 

loi.  Generous  .- — generosity  : — gentle  : — gentility:  Latin 
generosus, — a  person  of  genus,  or  rank,  or  of  gentle  birth. 
In  modern  usage  generous  and  gentle  are  no  longer 
associated, — in  Shakespeare,  the  original  radical  sense  of 
well-born  unites  them  : — 

He  said  he  was  gentle,  but  unfortunate. 

(Cyiiib.  IV.  ii.  39). 

He  mines  my  genlility  with  my  education. 

{AsYoH  Likclt\.\.2i). 

The  generous  and  gravest  citizens. 

(Mens,  for  Meas.  IV.  vi.  14). 

Edmund,  seeking  to  reason  away  the  disadvantages  of 
illegitimacy,  says, — 

Why  bastard  ?     Wherefore  base  ? 
When  my  dimensions  are  as  well  compact, 
M}'  mind  as  generous  ...  as  honest  madam's  issue. 

{Lear  I.  ii.  6). 

Coriolanus,  in  his  hatred  of  the  common  people,  speaks 
of  their  demand  as  enough 

To  break  the  heart  of  generosity 

And  make  bold  power  look  pale. 

{Cor.  I.  i.  215). 

So  Bacon  says,  "  Neither  is  the  commandment  of  tyrants 
much  better  over  people  which  have  put  off  the  generosity 
of  their  minds"  (Works  IIL  316),  w'hich  Dr.  Aldis  Wright 
interprets,  "nobilit}'."  "  All  the  great  families,  noble  and 
generous  of  the  kingdom."  ("  Life  "  IV.  2S5). 
102.   Glory.     (See  Chapter  XL,  section  i.) 


GRATULATE.    ILLUSTRATE.    IMMANITY.    IMMINENT.      359 

103.  Gratulatc  :  Latin  gratulo—ihe  Latin  form  of  the 
word  congratulate ;  or,  in  the  second  instance,  the 
correlative  adjective. 

Gratulatc  his  safe  return  to  Rome. 

{Tit.  A.\.\.  221). 

There's  more  behind  that  is  more  gratulatc. 

{Mcas.for  Mcas.  V.  i.  535). 

104.  Illustrate  :  Latin  Ilhstro  ;  connected  with  iUucesco, 
and  /m.t,— light  up,  make  light,  bright,  illuminated, 
renowned. 

Tlie  magnanimous  and  most  illustrate  king. 

(L.  L.  L.  IV.  i.  65). 

This  most  gallant,  illustrate  and  learned  gentleman. 

{lb.  V.  i.  128). 

The  root  meaning  of  the  word  is  excellently  employed  by 
Bacon  in  a  letter  to  the  King:— "When  your  Majesty 
could  raise  me  no  higher,  it  was  your  grace  to  illustrate  me 
with  beams  of  honour."     ("  Life"  VIL  168.     Also  p.  70). 

"  Many  wits  and  industries  have  been  spent  about  the 
wit  of  some  one,  whom  many  times  they  have  rather 
depraved  than  illustrated"  ("Advancement"  L  iv,  12. 
Op.  in.  290).     (See  Deprave). 

105.  Imuianity  •  Latin  hnmanitus, — the  opposite  of 
hiimanitas,  kindness;  i.e.,  inhumanity,  or  ferocity. 

Such  iinmaiuly  and  bloody  strife. 

(I  Hen.  VI.  V  i.  13). 

This  is  evidently  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  anglicize  a 
Latin  word. 

106.  hnuiineni :  imuiinence  :  Latin  Invninco ;  overhang, 
threaten.  In  its  distinctively  classic  sense  imminent 
means  not  only  about  to  happen,  but  threatening  to 
happen,  menacing ;  and  in  this  sense  it  is  employed,  in  six 
out  of  the  seven  instances  in  which  it  occurs  in  Shake- 
speare :  and  even  in  the  seventh  this  meaning  is  possible. 


360         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

and    indeed     preferable,     though     not     necessary.      The 
ambiguous  case  is, 

The  iniittinciit  decay  of  wrested  pomp. 

(itolii!  IV.  iii.  154). 

There  is  no  ambiguity  in  the  other  instances. 

luimincnt  death. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  V.  iii.  19,  and  Ham.  IV.  iv.  60). 

Dangers  as  infinite  as  iiumincni. 

[Tro.  Cr.  IV.  iv.  70). 

Evils  iiitniiiiciif. 

{'Jul.  CO'S.  II.  ii.  81). 

The  imminent  deadly  breach. 

{pill.  I.  iii.  136). 

In  the  morn  and  liquid  dew  of  youth 
Contagious  blastments  are  most  imminent. 

{Ham.  I.  iii.  41J. 

Imminence  occurs  only  once,  and  is  evidently  coined  by 
the  poet. 

I  dare  all  imminence  that  gods  and  men 
Address  their  dangers  in. 

{Tro.  Cr.  V.  x.  13). 

107.  Immure  :  Latin  mums,  a  wall. 

Troy,  within  whose  strong  immures,  the  ravish'd  Helen  .  .  . 
sleeps.  {Tio.  Cr.  Prologue  8). 

108.  Impertinency  :  impertinent  :  Latin  pertinco,  with  the 
negative  prefi.x  in— i.e.,  not  related  to  or  belonging  to  the 
subject. 

O,  Matter  and  Impertinency  mixed 
Reason  in  Madness. 

{Lear  IV.  vi.  178). 

The  suit  is  impertinent  to  mvsclf. 

{Mer.  Yen.  n.n.  146). 

"  Some  there  are,  who,  though  they  lead  a  single  life, 
yet  their  thoughts  do  end  with  themselves,   and  account 


IMPLORATOR.   IMPONED.   IMPOSE.        361 

future  times  inipertinencies.'"  (Essay  8.  of  "Marriage." 
See  also  Essay  26,  of  "Seeming  Wise''). 

Nihil  ad  se  pertinentia,  would  reprisent  the  idea  in  Latin. 
The  answers  made  by  our  Saviour  to  questions,  were, 
Bacon  says,  in  many  cases,  "Impertinent  to  the  state  of  the 
question  demanded,  non  ad  rem,  sed  quasi  inipertinentia." 
("Advancement"  II.  xxv.  17.  Op.  III.  486.  De  Aug.  ix. 
Op.  I.  836). 

log.  Implorator :  adapted  from  the  Latin  iinploro, 
impioratio,  beseech,  entreat,  beg  earnestly. 

Mere  implomtors  of  unholy  suits. 

{Hani.  I.  iii.  129). 

110.  hnponed .-  Latin  impono,  put  upon,  as,  ex.  gr.  the 
stakes  of  a  wager.  The  word  is  put  into  the  mouth  Osric, 
the  affected  and  pedantical  courtier  ;  and  derisively  echoed 
by  Hamlet. 

Osric. — The  king,  sir,  hatli  wagered  with  liim  six  Barbary  horses ; 
against  the  which  he  has  tiuponcd,  as  I  take  it,  six  French  rapiers, 
etc.  .  .  . 

Ham. — Why  is  this  " imponai"  as  3-ou  call  it. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.  154). 

111.  Impose:  imposition:  from  the  same  Latin  root, 
impono.  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  cheating,  but  is  used  in 
a  purely  classic  sense.  Of  putting  upon  one  any  duty  or 
penalty. 

According  to  your  ladyship's  impose. 

{Tifo  Gciii.  Vcr.  IV.  iii.  8). 

Impose  me  to  what  penance  vour  invention 
Can  lay  upon  my  sin. 

{M.AdoX.  i.  283). 

I  have  on  Angelo  imposed  the  office. 

{Meas.for  Mcas.  I.  iii.  40). 

I  do  desire  you 
Xot  to  deny  this  imposition 
The  which  my  love,  and  some  necessity 
Now  lavs  upon  voii. 

(Mer.  Wn.  III.  iv.  32). 


362  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

If  black  scandal  or  foul-faced  reproach 
Attend  the  sequel  of  your  iniposilion. 

{Rich  III.  III.  vii.  231). 

112.  Incarnadine:   from  Latin  car;n"s,  flesh. 

The  multitudinous  seas  incarnadine. 

{Macb.  II.  ii.  62). 

The  whole  line  is  very  classic  in  its  tone,  and  more  Greek 

than  Latin.       It  recalls  the  ttovtiwv  KVfjiaTwv  dv/jpiOfiov  yeXdafxa 

of  iEschylus :    the    multitudinous   laugh    of    ocean, — the 
unnumbered  smilings  of  the  waves. 

113.  Incense,  as  a  verb  :  Latin  incendo,  incendi,  incensum, 
to  kindle,  inflame,  set  fire  to  ;  and  secondarily  to  rouse, 
excite,  provoke. 

I  will  incense  Page  to  deal  with  poison. 

(Mer.  IF.  I.  iii.  109). 

To  Hy  the  boar  before  the  boar  pursues 
Were  to  incense  the  boar  to  follow  us. 

{Rich.  III.  III.  ii.  28). 

The  world,  too  saucy  with  the  gods, 
Incenses  them  to  send  destruction. 

{■Jul.  Cics.  I.  iii.  12). 

So  Bacon,  in  Observations  on  a  Libel,  says,  "  We  have 
incensed  none  by  our  injuries."  ("Life"  I.  176). 
"Tiberius,  upon  a  stinging  and  incensing  speech  of 
Agrippina."  ("  Advancement  "  Op.  III.  458).  The  primary 
classic  sense  of  incense  is  found  in  the  Essay  of  "  Adver- 
sity."  "  Virtue  is  like  precious  odours,  most  fragrant  when 
they  are  incensed,"  which  may  mean  either  set  on  fire,  or 
excited, — or  (ambiguously)  kindled. 

114.  Incertain  :  not  so  frequent  as  uncertain.  The  cor- 
relative nouns  incertainty  and  uncertainty  are  about  equally 
used.  Incertain  is  sometimes  used  with  the  Latin  sense  of 
unsettled,  not  fixed,  i.e.,  in  the  mind  not  in  the  fact :  a 
subjective  rather  than  an  objective  doubtfulness. 


INCLUDE.       INCLUSIVE.  363 

To  be  worse  than  worst 

Of  those  that  lawless  and  iiiccrtain  thoughts 

Imagine  howling. 

{Measure  for  Measure  III.  i.  126). 

You  consider  little 

What  dangers,  b}'  his  highness'  fail  of  issue 

May  drop  upon  his  kingdom,  and  devour 

lucertain  lookers-on. 

{Winters  TaleY.  i.  26). 

When  Bacon  speaks  of  the  "doubtfulness  and  inccrtainty 
of  law."  ("Advancement"  II.  xxiii.  49,  Op.  III.  231),  the 
doubt  may  be  either  in  the  law  (objective)  or  in  the  inter- 
pretation (subjective).  When  he  sa3-s  that  words  are  full 
of  "flattery  and  uncertainty'"  {lb.  p.  458),  the  uncertainty 
is  objective.   But  the  distinction  is  not  invariably  observed. 

115.  Include  is  twice  used  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin 
inchido,  close,  finish,  resolve  into. 

We  will  include  all  jars 
With  triumphs,  mirth  and  rare  solemnity. 

{Tw.  G.  V.  V.  iv.  160). 

Then  everything  includes  itself  in  power. 

{Tro.  Cr.  I.  iii.  119). 

Speaking  of  the  Queen  as  a  type  of  great  rulers,  Bacon 
says,  "The  Commonwealth's  wrong  is  included  in  them- 
selves." ("Life"  I.  129),  where  the  word  included  may 
mean  either  concentrated,  or  contained. 

116.  Inchisive :  also  from  inchido,  in  its  primary  sense  of 
shut  up  or  in.  Although  the  current  import  of  the  word  is 
derived  from  its  original  classic  sense,  3^et  the  classic  tone 
is  very  clear,  and  must  have  been  consciously  present  to 
the  poet  in  the  following  passages — the  onl}^  ones  in  which 
the  word  is  found  in  Shakespeare.  Helen,  speaking  of  the 
specifics  for  medical  use  left  to  her  by  her  father,  describes 
them  : — 

As  notes  whose  faculties  inclusive  were 

More  than  tliev  were  in  note. 

{AlFs  Well  I.  iii.  232). 


364  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

I  would  to  Ciod  that  iiicliisi7'c  verge 

Of  golden  metal  that  must  round  my  brow 

Were  red-hot  steel  to  sear  me  to  the  brain. 

(Rich.  HI.  IV.  i.  59). 

117.  Indigcsi:  whenever  it  occurs  in  Shakespeare  is 
evidently  an    echo  of  Ovid's  verse, — Quern  dixere  chaos, 

rudis  indigestaque  moles. 

Be  of  good  comfort,  prince  ;  for  you  are  born 

To  set  a  form  upon  that  iiidigcst, 

Which  he  liath  left  so  shapeless  and  so  rude. 

{John  V.  vii.  25). 

Cowden  Clarke  remarks  that  Golding's  translation 
of  Ovid,  which  the  poet  may  have  seen,  does  not  contain 
the  word  indigest, — while  the  original  Latin  does  not  con- 
tain any  word  exactly  corresponding  to  shapeless. 
Golding's  version  is  : — 

Which  chaos  hight,  a  huge  rude  heap 

No  sun  as  yet  with  light  tlie  sliapclcss  world  did  view  : — 

which  seems  to  prove  that  Shakespeare  knew  both  the 
original  and  Golding's  translation,  as  he  adopts  the 
characteristic  words  of  each. 

Thy  mother  felt  more  than  a  mother's  pain, 

And  yet  brought  forth  less  than  a  mother's  hope ; — 

To  wit  an  indigested  and  deformed  lump. 

(3  Ha,.  VI.  V.  vi.  49). 

The  True  Tragedy,— the  first  draft  of  3  Hen.  17.— has  "an 
indigest  created  lump." 

To  make  of  monsters  and  things  indigest 
Such  cherubins  as  your  sweet  self  resemble. 

(Son.  114). 

Browne  (Brittannia's  Pastorals,  Book  I)  has  "  A  chaos, 
rude  and  indigest."  It  seems  as  if  the  entire  Ovidian 
passage  is  always  alluded  to  when  the  word  indigest  is 
employed. 

118.  Indign:  Latin  indignus,  unworthy,  shameful. 


INDUBITATE.       INEQUALITY.  365 

Let  all  indign  and  base  adversities 
Make  head  against  my  estimation. 

{0th.  L  iii.  274). 

Bacon  writes: — "There  be  four  means  whereby  the 
death  of  the  King  may  be  compassed  and  imagined.  .  .  . 
The  fourth  by  disabhng  his  regiment,  and  making  him 
appear  to  be  incapable  or  indign  to  reign."  Conference 
with  Coke.     ("  Life  "  V.  109). 

119.  Induhitatc:  Latin  Indubitatus — undoubted. 

The  indubitate  beggar. 

{Love's  Labour  s  Lost  IV,  i.  67). 

Bacon,  referring  to  the  line  of  York,  says  it  was  "held 
then  the  indubitate  heirs  of  the  Crown."  ("Hen.  VIL" 
Works  VL  30). 

120.  Inequality .-  is  a  word  which  occurs  only  once  in 
Shakespeare,  and  then  it  is  used  in  a  very  metaphysical 
way,  the  meaning  being  somewhat  obscure.  The  Duke, 
in  Measure  for  Measure,  is  winding  up  the  tangled  skein  of 
affairs,  which  by  his  absence  had  grown  complicated  and 
perplexing.  He  is  listening  to  the  complaint  of  Isabella. 
At  first  he  affects  belief  in  her  insanity  ;  but  then  he  com- 
ments thus  on  her  pleading  : — 

By  mine  honesty, 
If  she  be  mad, — as  I  believe  no  other, — 
Her  madness  hath  the  oddest  frame  of  sense, 
Such  a  dependency  of  thing  on  thing 
As  e'er  I  heard  in  madness. 

And  Isabella  replies  : — ■ 

O,  gracious  duke, 
Harp  not  on  that,  nor  do  not  banish  reason 
For  inequality  ;  but  let  your  reason  serve 
To  make  the  truth  appear  where  it  seems  hid, 
And  hide  the  false,  seenis  true. 

{Measure  for  Measure  V.  i.  59). 

The    interpretation    of   this  word  is  difficult.     Perhaps 
Bacon's  use  of  the  words  incequalis,  incequalitcr,  incequalitas 


366         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES.  IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

ma}'  point  out  the  real  meaninj;  of  the  word  in  Shake- 
speare. In  two  passages  of  the  Novum  Organnm,  this  word 
is  used, — passages  which  are  themselves  obscure,  and 
prompt  a  foot-note  of  perplexity  to  Mr.  Spedding.  The 
first  passage  is  as  follows  : — "  Intellectus,  nisi  regatur  et 
juvetur,  res  incequalis  sit,  et  omnino  inhabilis  ad  super- 
andum  rerum  obscuritatem."     {Nov.  Org.  I.  21). 

In  another  passage  Bacon  is  discoursing  on  the  Idola 
Fori, — the  idols  of  the  Market, — imposed  by  words  on  the 
understanding.  These  are  either  names  of  things  which 
do  not  exist,  such  as  Fortune,  Primum  Mobile,  etc.  ;  or 
names  of  things  which  exist,  but  are  confused  and  ill- 
defined,  and  are  "  temere  et  incequaliter  a  rebus  abstracta," 
— hastily  and  irregularly  derived  from  realities.  (Spedding). 
Such  a  word  is  humid,  heavy,  light,  dense,  rare.  {Nov.  Org. 
1.  60).  In  the  41st  Aphorism,  expounding  the  special 
features  of  the  Idola  Tribiis,  he  sa3'S,  "  Estque  intellectus 
humanus  instar  speculi  inequalis  ad  radios  rerum,  quae 
suam  naturam  naturae  rerum  immiscet,  eamque  distorquet 
et  inficit."  The  human  mind  is  like  a  mirror  : — Spedding 
translates,  "a  false  mirror  which,  receiving  rays  inequally, 
distorts  and  discolours  the  nature  of  things  by  mingling 
its  own  nature  with  it."  A  paraphrase  giving  the  sense 
perfectly,  but  evading  the  difficulty  of  giving  an  exact 
translation  of  the  words  incBqualis  ad  radios  rerum.  Isabella 
cautions  the  Duke  against  being  ensnared  by  one  of  the 
Idola  Tribiis  : — he  must  not  distort  and  discolour  facts  by 
putting  his  own  notions  upon  them. 

Of  the  first  passage,  Spedding  says,  —  "I  should  be  in- 
clined to  translate  this  clause,  '  Since  the  intellect,  if  it  be 
not  guided  and  assisted,  acts  irregularly  (res  insequalis  sit), 
and  is  altogether  unequal  to  overcome  the  obscurity  of 
nature.'  Thus  in  §  60  we  meet  with  a  similar  use  of  the 
adverb  '  ina^qualiter,' — 'temere  et  inaequaliter  a  rebus 
abstracta,' — rashly  and  irregularly  abstracted  from  their 
objects.  Or  perhaps,  though  this  translation  would  not 
be  free  from  objection,  inaequalis  might  be  rendered  inade- 
quate, or  unequal  to  the  matter  in  hand." 


INEgUALITY.  367 

It  is  obvious  that  the  word,  as  used  by  Shakespeare, 
refers  to  the  same  subject-matter  as  that  referred  to  in  the 
Organum,  i.e.,  the  obscurity  of  things.  Isabella  beseeches 
the  Duke  not  to  decide  a  difficult  and  obscure  case  by  the 
use  of  that  which  is  unfit  to  cope  with  it, — i.e.,  a  judgment 
not  aided  or  ruled  by  Reason  and  Experience, — do  not 
banish  reason,  but  let  it  serve  ad  siiperandwn  rerum 
ohscuritatem.  Or  she  may  challenge  his  decision  that  she 
is  mad,  as  a  conclusion  temere  et  insequaliter  a  rebus 
abstracta.  She  has  in  her  mind  a  large  view  of  the  impedi- 
ments to  induction,  which  Bacon  =0  sagaciously 
portrayed; — she  has  just  before  urged  "Make  not 
impossible  that  which  but  seems  unlike," — probably 
remembering  the  ancient  fallacy, — "  quicquid  ars  aliqua 
non  attingat  ad  ipsum  ex  eadem  arte  impossibile  statuunt." 
{Pref.  to  Nov.  Org.  Works  I.  127).  Isabella  begs  the 
Duke  not  to  take  a  distorted  and  discoloured  impression  of 
the  facts,  like  an  uneven  mirror.  Evidently  the  poet 
intended  the  word  to  express  very  much  more  than  anyone 
can  find  in  it,  unless  he  has  studied  Bacon's  Latin. 

Bacon's  philosophy,  as  one  of  its  fundamental  maxims, 
opposes  itself  to  the  inequality  of  the  human  mind,  which, 
like  a  badly-made  glass,  distorts  and  misrepresents  the 
nature  of  things  : — Sicut  speculum  in^equale  rerum  radios 
ex  figura  et  sectione  propria  immutat,  ita  ut  mentem,  cum 
a  rebus  per  sensum  patitur,  in  notionibus  suis  expediendis 
et  commiscendis  hand  optima  fide,  rerum  natural  suam 
naturam  inserere  et  immiscere. 

In  describing  the  third  part  of  the  Instauration,  he  says 
that  the  senses  are  both  deficient  and  deceptive  in  the 
information  they  impart.  Observation  is  heedless,  unequal, 
and  somewhat  haphazard  :  Indiligens  et  inaequalis  et 
tanquam  fortuita.  Inequality  is  constantly  detected  and 
exposed.  One  of  the  motives  of  the  whole  play.  Measure 
for  Meastive,  is  to  show  the  inequality  of  law  to  deal  with 
vices  which  are  not  always  crimes. 

In    another    passage  Bacon  speaks  of  inequality    as    a 


368  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

mental  defect.  In  his  Essay  on  "  Earthly  Hope,"  he 
describes  false  or  over-weening  hope  as  leading  its  votary 
to  dwell  in  a  sort  of  pleasant  dream,  and  "this  it  is,"  he 
adds,  "which  makes  the  mind  light,  frothy,  unequal, 
wandering."  "Hoc  est  quod  reddit  animum  levem, 
tumidum,  inccqualem,  peregrinantem."  (Works  VH.  237, 
248).  So  Isabella  tells  the  Duke  that  by  leaving  the  firm 
ground  of  Reason,  and  surrending  himself  to  conjecture, 
his  mind  becomes  levis,  tumidus,  inccqnalis,  et  peregrinus. 
The  whole  passage  is  redolent  of  Baconian  thought. 

121.  Infest:  infcstion :  Latin  infesto,  attack,  trouble, 
disturb,  injure.  The  word  infest  occurs  only  once  in 
Shakespeare  : — 

Do  not  infcsf  your  mind  with  beating  on 

The  strangeness  of  this  business. — Temp.  V.  i.  246. 

The  classic  sense  of  the  word  is  certainly  implied. 
The  word  infection  in  Rich.  II.  II.  i.  44,  should  probably 
be  infestion,  as  Farmer  conjectured  ;  thus: — 

This  fortress,  built  by  Nature  for  herself 
Against  infcstion  and  the  liand  of  war. 

A  fortress  is  more  likely  to  be  used  against  infestion  than 
infection,  although,  in  poetical  use,  the  word  infection  is 
not  inadmissible,  nor  is  it  inappropriate  to  the  general 
sense  of  the  passage.  But  no  idea  cognate  to  infection  is 
found  in  the  whole  speech,  while  we  do  find  that  which  is 
equivalent  to  infestion — attack,  injury, — ex.  gr.  : 

Whose  rocky  shore  beats  back  the  envious  siege 
Of  watery  Neptune.  {lb.  62). 

122.  Inflnence :  Latin  infino,  flow,  run,  or  stream  into. 
In  the  exact  sense  required  by  its  Latin  derivation  this 
word  is  us  d,  in  an  astrological  sense,  to  express  the  stream 
of  power  that  flows  from  stars  or  planets. 

The  moist  star, 
Upon  whose  influence  Neptune's  empire  stands. 

{Ham.  I.  i.  ri8). 


INFLUENCE.       INFORM.  369 

I  find  my  zenith  doth  depend  upon 
A  most  auspicious  star,  whose  influence, 
If  now  I  court  not  but  omit,  my  fortunes 
Will  ever  after  droop. 

{Temp.  I.  li.  181). 

The  same  meaning,  used  in  analogy,  is  present  in  :  — 

Yet  be  most  proud  of  that  which  I  compile, 

Whose  influence  is  thine  and  born  of  thee. 

(Son.  78). 

Milton  uses  the  word  in  the  same  sense  : — 

Dawn  and  the  Pleiades  before  him  danced 
Shedding  sweet  influence. 

(Par.  L.  VII.  375). 

123.  Inform:  Latin  informo ;  i.  To  give  form,  shape  to 
anything ;  to  fashion,  mould,  or  train  the  mind ;  ii. 
Secondarily,  to  represent  by  a  mental  image.  It  is  very 
important  to  keep  the  classic  sense  of  this  word  in  view 
when  we  are  seeking  for  the  deepest  and  most  poetic 
import  of  the  passages  where  it  occurs.  Doubtless,  the 
word  often  bears  only  the  ordinary,  current  sense  of  giving 
information  ;  but  even  where  this  shallower  meaning  is 
sufficient  for  good  sense,  the  deeper  sense  is  also  generally 
applicable,  and  in  its  light  the  words  of  the  poet  gain  fresh 
weight  and  interest.  The  classic  sense  is  required  in  such 
a  benediction  as  Coriolanus  pronounces  on  his  little  son  ; — 

The  god  of  soldiers, 
With  the  consent  of  Supreme  Jove,  inform 
Thy  thoughts  with  nobleness. 

{Cor.  V.  iii.  70). 

And   in   the   following  passage,    the  metaphysic   sense   is 
required  : — 

'Twere  good 
You  lean'd  unto  his  sentence  with  what  patience 
Your  wisdom  may  inform  you. 

{Cymb.  I.  i.  77). 

The  second  sense — that  of  mental  presentation — is  curiously 

AA 


370  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

implied  in  Macbeth's  dagger  scene.  He  tries  vainly  to 
clutch  the  weapon,  and  exclaims, — 

There's  no  such  thing  ! 

It  is  the  bloody  business  which  in/onus 

Thus  to  mine  eyes. 

{Mach.  II.  i.  47). 

The  spectral  dagger  is  merely  the  contemplated  crime, 
shaping  itself,  in  symbolic  representation,  before  his  eyes. 

So  also  Hamlet,  seeing  the  body  of  soldiers  eagerly  bent 
on  some  trifling  purpose,  says, — 

How  all  occasions  do  inform  against  me 
And  spur  my  dull  revenge. 

{Ham.  IV.  iv.  32). 

i.e.,  everything  that  happens  carries  some  parable  or 
representation  of  the  course  he  is  bound  to  pursue — shaping 
itself  so  as  to  address  itself  visibly  to  the  duty  which  he  is 
neglecting. 

Bacon  often  uses  the  word,  both  in  English  and  Latin  ; 
and  wherever  the  import  can  be  extended  beyond  that  of 
conveying  knowledge,  and  the  deeper  metaphysic  sense,  of 
giving  form  or  shape  to  the  mind  or  character  is  accepted, 
the  larger  thought  will  be  evidently  more  true  to  Bacon's 
own  idea.  Thus,  "The  bounds  of  Natural  Theology  are 
that  it  sufficeth  to  convince  atheism,  but  not  to  inform 
religion."  (See  "Convince,")  Inform  religion  does 
not  mean  simply  to  teach  religious  truth,  but  to 
establish  religion  as  a  forming,  shaping  influence  in  the 
mind,  giving  it  actuality,  coherence,  substantial  existence. 
Bacon  thus  speaks  of  the  light  of  nature  : — "  Lux  quae  non 
prorsus  clara  est,  sed  ejus  modi  ut  potius  vitia  quadam 
tenus  redarguat,  quam  de  offlcis  plane  iiiforiuct.'" — A  light 
which  is  not  absolutely  clear,  serving  rather  to  rebuke  vice 
to  some  extent  than  fully  to  inform  concerning  duty.  The 
information  thus  given  is  the  very  vision  and  intuition  of 
truth  itself  given  by  a  truth  organ, — it  is  essentially  iden- 
tical   with    the    mind    itself.     For    Bacon's    metaphysio 


INFORM,       INFORTUNATE.      INGENIOUS.  371 

identifies  knowledge  and  being  : — "  Knowledge  is  not  only 
the  excellentest  thing  in  man,  but  the  very  excellency  of 
man.  .  .  ,  The  truth  of  being  and  the  truth  of  knowing  is 
all  one."  Thus,  information  derived  from  an  inner  light 
is  not  separate  from  the  mind, — it  belongs  to  its  very  form 
and  essence.  Inform  is  a  very  profound  word,  both  in 
Bacon  and  in  Shakespeare. 

124.  Infortunate.      Latin  inforiunatus,    liable  to  misfor- 
tune,   because    not    favoured    by   the   goddess   Fortuna. 
t/«fortunate  is  less  definitely  associated  with  the  gifts  of 
Portune. 

This  is  tliy  eld'st  son's  son, 

Infortunate  in  nothing  but  in  thee. 

{John  II.  i.  177). 

And  Henry,  though  he  be  infortunate, 
Assure  yourselves,  will  never  be  unkind. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  ix.  18). 

In  both  these  passages  there  is  a  sub-reference  to  Fortune, 
and  consequently  a  classic  colour. 

Bacon  writes  : — "It  hath  been  often  noted  that  those 
who  ascribe  openly  too  much  to  their  own  wisdom  and 
TpoWcy,  end'' infortunate"  (Essay  of  "Fortune.")  "Vin- 
dictive persons  live  the  life  of  witches,  who,  as  they  are 
:mischievous,  so  end  they  ^infortunate.''"  (Essay  of 
"  Revenge.") 

125.  Ingenious — ingenium,  natural  ability,  or  capacity. 
Used  in  a  purely  classic  sense  in  Lear  and  Hamlet,  and 
other  plays. 

The  King  is  mad  :  how  stiff  is  my  vile  sense, 
That  I  stand  up  and  have  ingenious  feeling 
Of  my  huge  sorrows. 

{Lear  IV.  vi.  286). 

O  treble  woe, 
Fall  ten  times  treble  on  that  cursed  head, 
Whose  wicked  deed  thy  most  ingeniou.s  sense 
Deprived  thee  of. 

{Hani.  V.  i.  269). 


372  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

What,  that  an  eel  is  ingenious  f 

{L.  L.  L.  I.  ii.  29). 

That  is,  has  great  natural  abiUty — which  may  be  otherwise 
termed  "  quick."     (I.  25). 

126.  Inhabitable.  Latin  inhabitabilis,  not  fit  for  habita- 
tion, un-inhabitable.  The  classic  sense  is  exactly  the 
reverse  of  the  current  meaning  of  the  word,  which,  as  used 
by  the  Poet,  is  really  a  Latin  word — not  English  at  all. 

The  frozen  ridges  of  the  Alps, 
Or  any  other  ground  inhabitable. 

{Ricli.  //.  l.i.  64). 

The  word  inhabitabilis  is  found  in  ISov.  Org.  I.  72  : — "  Imo 
et  plurima  climata  et  zonae,  in  quibus  populi  infiniti  spirant 
et  degunt,  tanquam  inhabitabilcs  ab  illis  pronuntiata  sint." 
Ben  Jonson,  who  was  classic  to  the  point  of  pedantry, 
has — 

"  SoniL-  inhabitable  place 
Where  the  hot  sun  and  slime  breed  nought  but  monsters." 

{Cataline  V.  i.-54). 

127.  Inherit, — Inheritor.  Generally  has  a  legal  sense  in 
Shakespeare — meaning,  to  possess.  But  it  sometinies 
bears  the  meaning  reflected  from  the  Latin  inhcereo — stick, 
cling  or  hang  to,  adhere  or  belong  to. 

The  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve. 

{Temp.  IV.  i.  153). 

Nothing  but  fair  is  that  which  you  inherit. 

[L.  L.  L.  IV.  i.  20). 

These  passages,  and  some  others,  require  the  classic  sense  ; 
and  in  both  cases  the  verb  (the  predicate)  does  not  precede, 
but  follows  its  object,  as  in  Latin.  In  other  places  the 
ordinary  sense,  which  is  now  current,  is  required  : — 

Her  dispositions  she  inherits. 

(All's  Well  I.  i.  46). 

Simple   possession,   without   the  idea  of  inheriting  from 


INHERIT.      INSINUATION.       INSISTURE.  373 

ancestors,   or  obtaining  by  bequest,  is  implied  in    many 
passages.     Ex.  gr. — 

The  sole  iiiJicritor  {i.e.  possessor) 
Of  all  perfections  that  a  man  may  owe  {i.e.  possess). 

(L.  L.  L.  II.  i.  5). 

Such  comfort  as  do  lusty  young  men  feel, 

When  well-apparell'd  April  on  the  heel 

Of  limping  Winter  treads,  even  such  delight, 

Among  fresh  female  buds,  shall  you  this  night 

Inhciit  at  my  house. 

(^Ro)u.  Jul.  I.  ii.  26). 

So  Milton  writes, — in  almost  Shakespearean  tones, — 

It  is  not  virtue,  wisdom,  valour,  wit, 

Strength,  comeliness  of  shape,  or  amplest  merit 

That  woman's  love  can  win,  or  long  inherit. 

128.  Insinuation :  Latin  insinuo  —  put  or  thrust  into, 
force  one's  way  into.  In  the  current  acceptation  of  this 
word,  insinuation  refers  to  an  interference  which  is  more  in 
words  and  speech  than  in  action.  The  original  sense  ot 
interference  by  act,  as  well  as  speech,  is  found  in 
Shakespeare, — 

Their  defeat 
Does  by  their  own  iiisiniiaiion  grow. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.  58). 

i.e.,  they  thrust  themselves  into  the  business,  and  must  take 
the  consequences. 

129.  'Insisture, — insisting  :  Latin  insisto,  stand  still,  halt — 
used  by  Cicero  in  reference  to  the  stars — stellarum  motus 
insistunt ;  and  by  Shakespeare  in  a  similar  sense,  probably 
with  Cicero's  words  in  his  mind, — 

The  heavens  themselves,  the  planets,  and  this  centre 
Observe  degree,  priority,  and  place, 
Insisture,  course,  proportion,  season,  form,  etc. 

{Tro.  Cr.  I.  iii.  85). 

The  same  idea — of  steadfastly  taking  a  stand,  is  implied 
in,— 


374         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Iiisisiing  on  the  old  prerogative. 

{Coriol.  III.  iii.  17). 

130.  Iwitance  :  "This  i.s  a  word,"  as  Dyce  remarks,  "used 
by  Shakespeare  with  various  shades  of  meaning,  which  it 
is  not  always  easy  to  distinguish, — motive,  cause,  ground, 
symptom,  prognostic,  information,  assurance,  proof, 
example,  indication."  Doubtless,  it  is  a  word  of  very 
tluctuating  import.  One  of  its  uses,  however,  may  be 
recognised  as  a  reflection  of  the  Latin  quod  instat,  an  inter- 
pretation supplied  by  Bacon  himself  in  using  the  word. 
For  he  says,  "  Men  do  not  take  things  in  order  of  time  as 
they  come  on,  but  marshall  them  according  to  greatness, 
and  not  according  to  instance,  not  observing  the  good  pre- 
cept, Quod  nunc  instat  aganius."  ("Advt."  II.  xxiii.  38. 
Op.  III.  496).  (See  post  under  the  word  Preposterous, 
for  the  full  quotations).  Here  "according  to  instance" 
means  either  what  is  urgent,  or  what  is  imminent,  just 
ready  to  occur.  Some  such  meaning  as  this  may  be  seen  in 
the  following  passages  : — 

The  Duke  comes  home  to-morrow  ;  nay,  dry  your  eyes  ; 

One  of  our  covent,  and  his  confessor, 

Gives  me  this  instance. 

{Mens.  M.  IV.  iii.  132). 

i.e.,  he  tells  me  of  an  event  quod  instat, — 

A  league  from  Epidamnum  liad  we  sail'd 
Before  the  always  wind-obeying  deep 
Gave  any  tragic  instance  of  our  harm. 

{Com.  of  Errois  I.  i.  63). 

i.e.,  any  indication  of  what  was  impending,  quod  instat, — 

The  dangers  of  the  days  but  newly  gone, 
....  and  the  examples 
Of  every  minute's  instance  (present  now), 
Have  put  us  in  these  ill-beseeming  arms. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  i.  80). 

I.e.,  examples  of  what  might  happen  at  any  minute.  Other 
examples  might  be  cited. 


INSTANT.      INSULT.       INTEND.  375 

131.  Instant:  is  used  in  the  same  sense — quod  instat: — 

Take  the  instant  way  ; 
For  honour  travels  in  a  strait  so  narrow, 
Where  one  but  goes  abreast. 

(Tro.  Cr.  III.  iii.  153). 

The  instant  action  (2  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.  37)  {i.e.,  the  action 
hoped  for,  Hke  "appearing  buds,"  ready  to  burst  out 
into  visible  form),  and  many  other  instances  in  which  the 
double  meaning  {i.e.,  what  is  actually  present,  or  what  is 
about  to  happen)  are  often  combined,  the  current  and 
the  classic  sense. 

132.  Insult, — insultment : — Latin  insulto,  leap  or  spring  at 
or  upon  :  hence,  to  treat  abusively.  The  word,  even  when 
used  in  its  current  sense,  often  connotes  the  signification  of 
jumping  on  a  thing  or  person,  and  is  used  with  the 
addition  of  the  jumping  preposition,  on  or  over,— 

Give  me  thy  knife,  I  will  insult  on  him. 

{Tit.  A.  III.  ii.  71). 

And  so  he  walks  insulting  o'er  his  prey. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  I.  iii.  14). 

While  he  [Death]  insults  o'er  dull  and  speechless  tribes. 

(Son.  107). 

Insultment  occurs  once  only,  in  a  cognate  sense  : — 

He  on  the  ground,  my  speech  of  insnltnient  ended  on  his  dead 
body.  {Cymb.  III.  v.  145). 

133.  Intend  :  Latin  intcndo,  to  turn  or  direct  one's  self  or 
one's  attention  or  mind  to  anything  —  to  notice,  be 
absorbed  in  anything.  In  Shakespeare  both  the  classic 
sense,  which  implies  a  fixed  mental  attention  to  what  is 
present,— and  the  current  sense  which  simply  denotes  a 
purpose  relating  to  the  future,  are  to  be  found.  Often 
either  of  these  two  meanings  is  applicable  :  as — 

C?esar  througli  S^'ria  intends  his  journe}-. 

{Ant.  CI.  y.  ii.  200). 


^i'jb         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Tut  !  I  can  counterfeit  the  deep  tragedian  : 

Speak,  and  looiv  bacli,  and  pry  on  every  side, 

Tremble,  and  start  at  wagging  of  a  straw, 

Intcndinii  deep  suspicion. 

(7e/< //.///.  III.  V.  5). 

Generally  the  classic  sense  is  most  applicable, — 

And  so,  inicndinil  other  serious  matters,  etc. 

{Tiiiwn  II.  ii.  219). 

The  use  of  the  word  intend  in  the  following  passage  is 
extremely  ingenious,  and  highly  significant  of  Bacon's 
thought:  — 

Away,  my  friends  !  new  flight ; 
And  happy  newness  that  intends  old  right. 

{John  V.  iv.  60). 

See  a  full  discussion  of  this  passage  in  Chap.  X.,  section 
6,  p.  181. 

Bacon  often  uses  the  word  intend  in  this  classic  sense  : 
thus  : — "  If  behaviour  and  outward  carriage  be  mtended  too 
much,  it  may  pass  into  affectation."  ("Advt."  II.  xxiii.  3. 
Works  III.  446).  "There  are  minds  proportioned  to 
intend  many  matters,  and  others  to  few."     (lb.  p.  434). 

"  Romulus  sent  ...  to  the  Romans  that  above  all 
things  they  should  intend  arms."     (Essay  29). 

And  many  other  passages. 

134.  Intentively :  is  used  once  only, —  in  the  sense  of 
attentively,  from  the  same  root  : — participle  intenius,  fixed, 
eager,  watching  attentively  : — 

Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 

But  not  intcniivcly.  (Oili.  I.  iii.  154). 

135.  Intenible  :  from  Latin  teneo,  with  the  negative 
prefix  in,  implying  not  able  to  hold.  The  word  represents 
a  possible  Latin  adjective  inienibilis,  which  is  not  found. 
Latin,  as  well  as  English,  is  plastic  in  the  poet's  diction. 
The  word  occurs  only  once  : — 

In  this  captious  and  intenible  sieve, 


INTRINSE.       LETHE.       MACULATE.  377 

I  still  pour  in  the  waters  of  my  love. 

{All's  Well  I.  iil  207). 

See  ante,  captious,  for  the  entire  classic  import. 

136.  Intrinse, —  intrinsecatc  : — Latin  intrinsecus — on  the 
inside.  Shakespeare  used  the  word  in  a  manner  pecuhar 
to  himself,  to  refer  to  that  which  being  most  interior,  is 
also  most  intricate,  complicated,  or  difficult  to  manage  or 
alter, — 

Such  smiling  rogues  as  these, 

Like  rats,  oft  bite  the  holy  cords  a-twain, 

Which  are  too  intrinse  t' unloose. 

{Lear  II.  ii.  79). 

Come,  thou  mortal  wretch  \_i.e.  the  asp], 
With  thy  sharp  teeth  this  knot  intrinsecatc 
Of  life  at  once  untie. 

{Ant.  CI.  V.  ii.  306). 

137.  Lethe :  this  word  occurs  once  only,  in  a  passage 
where  the  reading  is  doubtful.     Thus  : — 

Here  wast  thou  bay'd,  brave  hart  ; 
Here  did'st  thou  fall ;  and  here  thy  hunters  stand, 
Sign'd  in  thy  spoil,  and  crimson'd  in  thy  Lethe. 

{Julius  Ca'sar  III.  i.  205). 

If  lethe  represents  the  Latin  word  letum  or  lethuni,  death, 
it  is  the  solitary  instance  of  such  usage  ;  but  Shakespeare 
uses  Latin  so  freely,  and  inventively,  that  there  is  no  ante- 
cedent improbability  in  this  interpretation  of  the  word  ; 
and  it  is  more  suitable  to  the  context  than  the  sense  of 
Lethe  as  the  river  of  oblivion,  which  is  not  crimson  at  all. 

138.  Maculate, — inaculation  :  Each  of  these  occurs  only 
once ;  Latm  macula,  a  spot,  especially  a  foul  spot,  a 
blemish  or  disgrace. 

Most  maculate  thouglits,  master,  are  masked  under  such  colours. 

{L.  L.  L.  I.  ii.96). 

There's  no  niaculation  in  tliy  heart 

{Tro.  Cr.  IV.  iv.  66). 

139.  Merc, — Jitercly :   Latin  incrus,  pure,  unmixed,  hence 


3/8         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

by  inference,  intact,  complete,  entire.  "Not  merely,  in 
Bacon,  is  used  for  not  entirely.'"     (Abbott  "  S.  G."  15). 

Tlie  mere  perdition  of  the  Turkish  fleet. 

{0th.  II.  ii.  3). 

Tlic  iiurc  despair  of  surgery,  he  cures. 

[Macb.  IV.  iii.  152). 

Things  gross  and  rank  in  nature  possess  it  merely. 

{Ham.  I.  ii.  136.) 

"Pure  mathematics  are  those  sciences  which  handle 
quantity  determinate,  merely  severed  from  any  axioms  of 
Natural  Philosophy."  ("Adv."  II.  viii.  2.  Works  III. 
360). 

"  It  is  a  mere  and  miserable  solitude  to  want  true 
friends."      (Essay  27). 

"  Conflagrations  and  great  droughts  do  not  merely  (that 
is  utterly)  des'.roy."     (Essay  58). 

140.  Merit:  Latin  meritum,  that  which  is  deserved,  i.e., 
either  as  a  reward  or  a  punishment, — recompense. 

A  dearer  merit    .  .  .  liave  I  deserved  at  your  highness'  hands. 

{Rich.  II.  I.  iii.  156). 

On  this  C.  Knight  remarks,  "Johnson  says,  to  deserve  a 
merit  is  a  phrase  of  which  he  knows  not  any  examples.  It 
is  another  proof  of  Shakespeare's  attention  to  the  etymology 
of  words,  as  merit,  from  the  Latin  merito,  is  literally  a 
reward,  something  earned  or  gained.  Prior  has  used  it  in 
the  same  sense." 

141.  Mirabilc  :  Latin  mirabilis,  to  be  admired  or  won- 
dered at.     The  word  occurs  only  once  :  it  is  not  English. 

Not  Neoptolemus,  so  mirablc. 

{Tro.  Cr.  IV.  v.  142). 

142.  Modesty:  Mr.  Edwin  Reed  ("Bacon  v.  Sh."  p.  187) 
has  called  attention  to  the  use  of  this  word  in  the  same 
way  as  Cicero  uses  it  in  De  Offic.  I.  Cicero  says  that  by 
the  Stoics  modestia  is  equivalent  to  the  Greek  ivra^ia,  and 
means  a  setting  forth  in  proper  order  and  shape, — skill  in 


MODESTY,  379 

the  art  of  expression.  Elsewhere  in  reference  to  moral 
conduct,  or  behaviour,  moderation,  sobriety,  Cicero  says, 
eam  virtutem  Grseci  mafftpoa-vvrjv  vocant;  quam  soleo  equidem 
turn  temperantiam,  turn  moderationem  apellare ;  non 
nunquam  etiam  modestiam.  These  uses  of  the  word 
modesty  are  not  infrequent  in  Shakespeare. 

An  excellent  play,  well  digested  in  the  scenes,  set  down  with  as 
much  modesty  as  cunning. 

{Ham.  II.  ii.  461). 

Whom  I  most  hated  living,  thou  hast  made  me, 
With  thy  religious  truth  and  modesty, 
Now  in  his  ashes  honour. 

{Hen.  VIII.  IV.  ii.  73). 

You  must  confine  yourself  within  the  modest  limits  of  order. 

{Txv.  N.  I.  iii.  9). 

This  last  passage  corresponds  to  another  definition  of 
Cicero's  : —  Modestia  scientia  est  opportunitatis  idoneorum, 
ad  aliquid  agendum,  temporum.  It  is  interesting  to  see 
the  poet's  large  Latinity  appearing  in  quite  unexpected 
forms. 

Mr.  Ruggles  ("The  Plays  of  Shakespeare  founded  on 
Literary  Forms,"  p.  462),  refers  to  the  use  of  this  word 
Modest  in  the  following  passage  : — 

Messenger. — I  have  already  delivered  him  letters,  and  there  appears 
much  joy  in  him  ;  even  so  much  that  joy  could  not  show  itself 
modest  enough  without  a  badge  of  bitterness. 

Leonato. — Did  he  break  out  into  tears  ? 

Mess. — In  great  measure. 

Leon. — A  kind  overflow  of  kindness  ! 

(ii/.  Ado.  I.  i.  20). 

The  use  of  the  word  Modest  in  the  Latin  sense  of  keep- 
ing due  measure,  is  noted  as  a  direct  reflection  of  Bacon's 
philosophy,  which  requires  that  in  the  indulgence  of  feel- 
ing, or  forming  opinions,  a  true  measure  should  be 
observed  between  the  mind  and  its  objects.  (See  Chapter 
VIL). 


380         SHAKESPEARE     STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Modesty  means,  what  Cicero  defines  as  Scientia  oppor- 
tunitatis,  in  the  following  : — 

Win  straying  souls  with  modest}-  again, 

Cast  none  away. 

{Hen.  VIII.  V.  ii.  64). 

143.  Mure: — mural:  'Lat'muiuyus,  a  wall.  Each  of  the 
words  occurs  only  once.  No  merely  English  writer  would 
use  them. 

The  incessant  care  and  labour  of  his  mind 

Hath  wrought  the  imirc,  that  should  confine  it  in. 

So  thin  that  life  looks  through  and  will  break  out. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iv.  118). 

Now  is  the  mural  down  between  the  two  neighbours. 

\^M.  N.  D.  V.  i.  209). 

See  also  circnnimiire  and  immure. 

144.  Name:  This  word  is  sometimes  used  by  Shake- 
speare in  one  of  the  classic  senses  which  corresponds  to 
the  English  usage.  Nomen  may  mean  a  bond,  or  debt,  or 
security  ;  and  this  sense  is  to  be  recognised  in  the 
following  passages  : — 

Nay  !  I  care  not  for  their  names ;  they  owe  me  nothing. 

{As  Y.  L.  II.  V.  21). 

O  villain,  thou  hast  stolen  both  mine  office  and  my  name ; 
The  one  ne'er  got  me  credit,  the  other  mickle  blame. 

{Com.  Er.  III.  i.  44). 

These  passages  are  reflections  of  such  Latin  phrases  as 
nomen  solvere,  to  pay  a  debt ;  grandcm  pecimiam  certis 
nominibus,  good  debts  well  secured  ;  nomen  facere,  to  book 
the  items  of  a  debt. 

Perhaps  another  classic  sense  of  the  word  name  may  be 
seen  in  the  following  : — 

What  earthly  name  to  interrogatories 
Can  task  the  free  breath  of  a  sacred  king  ? 

{'John  III.  i.  147). 

This  may  reflect  one  of  the  meanings  of  the  verb  nomine — 


NASO.       OBLIGED,  381 

to  accuse,  arraign  a  person  before  a  magistrate,  summon  to 
a  judicial  process. 

145.  Naso :  the  name  of  the  Latin  poet,  Ovid, — P. 
Ovidius  Naso.  This  is  made  into  a  pun  on  the  word  nasus, 
a  nose. 

Ovidius    Naso  was    tlie    man  ;    and    \vh}%  indeed,  Naso,   but   for 
smelling  out  the  odoriferous  flowers  of  fancy  ! 

(L.  L.  L.  IV.  ii.  128). 

146.  Obliged :  used  classically  with  the  word  faith, 
equivalent  to  fides  obligata,  a  promise  which  is  binding. 

To  keep  obliged  faitJi  unforfeited. 

{Mer.  Vou  II.  vi.  7). 

The  same  phrase  is  concealed  in  the  following  from 
Bacon's  Essay  of  "Counsel."  "To  such  as  they  make 
their  counsellors  they  commit  the  whole  :  by  how  much 
the  more  they  are  obliged  to  all  faith  and  integrity.'" 
(Abbott  notes — "Obliged,  used  here  in  the  Latin  sense, 
bound." 

Bacon  writes  to  Villiers,  May  30,  1616,  "  If  I  would 
tender  my  profit  and  oblige  {i.e.,  bind)  men  unto  me  by  my 
place  and  practice,  I  could  have  more  profit  than  I  desire, 
and  could  oblige  all  the  world  and  offend  none."  ("  Life  '' 
V.  347).  The  classic  sense  is  here  obvious.  In  Shake- 
speare the  word  oblige  (or  obliged),  only  occurs  once,  as 
quoted.  The  word  obligation  occurs  seven  times,  and 
always  with  a  sort  of  legal  flavour  of  meaning,  as  almost 
or  quite  equivalent  to  a  legal  bond.     Thus 

The  obligation  of  our  blood,  forbids 
A  gory  emulation  'twixt  us  twain. 

{Tro.  Cr.  IV.  v.  122). 

Here  the  French  phrase  noblesse  oblige  is  probably  in  the 
poet's  mind.  Dick,  the  Butcher,  in  Jack  Cade's  Con- 
spiracy, accuses  the  Clerk  of  Chatham — 

He  can  make  obligations,  and  write  court-hand. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  ii.  100). 


382  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

i.e.,  he  can  draw  up  deeds  which  will  bind  men. 

Slender  s;iys  that  Shallow  "writes  himself  '  Armigero,'  in  any  bill, 

warrant  quittance  or  obligation,  *  Armigero.' 

{Mer.  IV.  I.  i.  9). 

Obligation  is   generally   a   legal    instrument  ;   and  this 
meaning  it  derives  by  its  classic  origin. 

147.  Occident.     Latin  occidens,  the  west  :  the  region  of 
the  setting  sun. 

The  envious  clouds  are  bent 
To  dim  his  glory,  and  to  stain  the  track 
Of  his  bright  passage  to  the  Occident. 

(/vVc//. //.  III.iii.65). 

I  may  wander  from  East  to  Occident. 

(Cyntb.  IV.  ii.  372). 

148.  Office;  used  in  the  classic  sense  of  officium,  duty. 
Cicero's  treatise  on  "  Ethics  "  is  entitled  Dc  Officiis. 

Whom  I,  with  all  the  ojfice  of  my  heart, 

Entirely  honour. 

(0///.  III.  iv.  113). 

In  the  1622  Quarto  the  word  duty  is  used.  The  1623  Folio 
has  office  : — the  change  is  noteworthy.     (See  Speculative). 

149.  Officious  ;  with  a  cognate  classical  signification. 

Come,  come,  be  everyone  officious 

To  make  this  banquet.  (77/.  ^4.  V.  ii.  202). 

The  Kings  of  Portugal,  Bacon  says,  "  were  officious  "  to 
the  King  of  Spain.  ("  Life"  I.  186).  Bacon  writes,  "Sir 
Robert  Clifford  was  won  to  be  assured  to  the  King,  and 
industrious  and  officious  in  his  service."  ("Hen.  VH." 
Works  VL  144). 

150.  Oppugnancy ;  derived  immediately  from  the  Latin 
■oppugnans,  resisting,  assaulting,  fighting  against.  The  word 
is  not  Enghsh  at  all,  and  occurs  only  once. 

What  discord  follows  !     Each  thing  meets 

In  mere  opptignnncy. 

(Tro.  Cr.  I.  iii.  no) 


OPPUGNANCY.       OSTENT.       OSTENTATION.  383 

Bacon,  in  his  "Charge  against  Somerset"  (a.d.  i6i6), 
says,  "This  marriage  and  purpose  did  Overhury  mainly 
oppugn."  ("Life"  V.  313).  Merc  oppugnancy  and  mainly 
oppugn  are  evidently  the  coinage  of  one  mint.  Mere 
oppugnancy  means  entire  and  uncompromising  opposition. 
Mainly  oppugn  means  the  same  thing  ;  it  imphes  strong, 
entire,  or  even  violent  resistance  (by  main  force).  In  Lear 
we  find — 

I  am  mainly  {i.e.  entirely)  ignorant  what  place  this  is. 

(Lear  IV.  vii.  65). 

Oppugn  in  Bacon  is  not  unlike  in  form  to  the  word  repugn 
in  Shakespeare  :  q.v. 

151.  Ostent, — Ostentation;  horn  ostendo  or  ostento,  show  ; 
not  merely  or  usually  a  vain  show,  an  evidence  of  pride  or 
self-display.  The  classic  sense  is  that  of  open  manifesta- 
tion, public  pageant. 

Like  one  well  studied  in  a  sad  ostent. 

{Mer.  Vcn.  II.  ii.  205). 

Sad  ostent  means  outward  show  of  seriousness,  or  sobriet}', 
or  decorum.  The  whole  passage  reflects  Bacon's  theory  of 
behaviour  as  a  "garment  of  the  mind."  (See  Chap.  VIII.) 
Gratiano  promises  to  "put  on  a  sober  habit."  The  sad 
ostent  is  another  dressing  of  the  same  idea. 

Courtship  and  such  fair  ostcnts  of  love. 

{lb.  II.  viii.  44). 

(See  also  Hen.  V.,  Act  V,,  Chorus,  21). 
Ostentation  is  more  frequent. 

Frighting  her  pale-faced  villages  with  war 
And  ostentation  of  despised  arms. 

{Rich.  II.  II.  iii.  94). 

And  publish  it  that  she  is  dead  indeed, 
Maintain  a  mourning  ostentation. 

{M.  Ado.  IV.  i.  206). 
Some  delightful   ostentation,   or  show,  or  pageant,  or  antique,  or 
firework. 

(L.  L.  L.\.  i.  117). 


384  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

No  noble  rite,  nor  forni:il  ostentation. 

{Ham.  IV.  V.  215). 

Keeping  such  vile  company  as  thou  art,  hath  in  reason  taken.from 

me  all  ostL'iitation  of  sorrow. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  II.  ii.  52). 

The  modern  sense  of  the  word  does  not  occur  in  Shake- 
speare ;  his  usage  is  exclusively  classic. 

T52.  Paint :  painted.  Painted  is  a  favourite  metaphor 
with  Shakespeare,  and  as  Mr.  Tancock  points  out 
(Clarendon  Edition  of  Marlowe's  Edw.  II.  II.  ii.  62),  it 
is  an  adaptation  of  Latin  phraseology — picia  prata,  etc. 

And  lady-smocks,  all  silver-white, 
Do  paint  the  meadows  with  delight. 

(L.  L.  L.  V.  ii.  905). 

From  Cupid's  shoulder,  pluck  his  painted  wings. 

{Tro.  Cr.  III.  ii.  14). 

The  epithet  painted  is  applied  in  Shakespeare  to  butterflies, 
clay,  devil,  flourish,  gloss,  hope,  imagery,  peace,  pomp, 
queen,  rhetoric,  tyrant,  wings,  word,  etc. 

153.  Pallianient ;  from  the  Latin  pallium,  a  cloak. 

This  pallianient  of  white  and  spotless  hue. 

(Tit.  A.l.\.  182). 

(See  Candidatus). 

154.  Pari,—partial-ly,^ariy;  from  the  Latin  pars,  in 
the  sense  of  a  side,  party,  faction.  In  the  following  passages 
part  is  a  verb,  and  answers  to  the  Latin  partio,  share,  or 
divide. 

Let's  away 
To  part  the  glories  of  this  happy  day. 

{Jut.  Oes.,  V.  V.  80). 

And  part  in  just  proportion  our  small  strength. 

(Rich.  III.  V.  iii.  26). 

In  the  sense  of  party,  or  side,  it  is  used  as  a  noun. 

Yea,  on  his  part  I'll  empty  all  these  veins. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.  133). 


PARTIAL.       PERDITION.       PERDURABLE.  385 

Party  and  partial  are  employed  as  cognate  terms  in — 

Whereto  thy  tongue  a  parly-verdict  gave  .  .  . 
A  partial  slander  sought  I  to  avoid. 

{Ricli.  II.  I.  iii.  234,  241). 

The  classic  and  the  current  sense  are  combined  into  one 
expression  in  such  passages  as  the  following : — 

Men's  faults  do  seldom  to  themselves  appear  ; 
Their  own  transgressions  partially  they  smother. 

(Lncrece  633). 

If  partially  affined,  or  leagued  in  office, 
Thou  dost  deliver  more  or  less  than  truth, 
Thou  art  no  soldier. 

(O///.  II.  iii.  218). 

One  of  the  Editors  paraphrases  this  as  follows  : — "  In- 
fluenced by  partiality  on  account  of  any  tie  or  affinity," 
but  the  radical  and  classic  meaning  is  thus  lost.  Party 
allegiance  is  the  meaning. 

Bacon  writes,  "Certain  Laodiceans  and  lukewarm 
persons  think  they  may  accommodate  points  of  religion  by 
middle  ways,  and  taking  part  of  both,  and  witty  reconcile- 
ments," i.e.,  on  equal  terms  with  both  sides.  Soon  after, 
and  pursuing  the  same  subject,  he  adds,  "If  it  were  done 
less  partially,  it  would  be  embraced  more  generally." 
Essay  3,  "of  Unity  in  Religion." 

Bacon,  in  his  letter  of  advice  of  Rutland,  says,  "  Your 
Lordship  should  affect  the  company  whom  you  find  to  be 
worthiest,  and  not  partially  think  them  worthy  whom  you 
affect." 

155.  Perdition,  from  the  Latin  word  Perdo,  used  with  the 
sense  of  loss  simply,  not  eternal  :  as  in  The  Tempest  Pros- 
pero  saves  the  crew  of  the  vessel  which  his  Tempest  has 
wrecked,  with  not  "  so  much  perdition  as  a  hair."  {Temp. 
I.  ii.  30). 

156.  Perdurable, — perdurahly:  perdurable  is  not  really  an 
English  word  at  all.  It  represents  the  Latin  word  per- 
durabilis.     It  is  true  that  this  word  is  not  found  in  classic 

BB 


386         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

literature, — but  it  might  have  been  ;  the  word  is  formed  m 
strict  analogy  to  other  words,  from  durabilis, — lasting — the 
prefix  per  having  an  intensive  signification.  Perdurable 
therefore  means  very  lasting — ineffaceable.  The  word 
(with  the  cognate  adverb)  occurs  three  times  in  Shake- 
speare. 

Why  would  he,  for  the  momentary  trick 

Be  pcniiirablv  fined  ? 

{Meas.M.Ul.l  11^). 

O  perdurable  shame  ! 

{Hen.  V.  IV.  v.  7). 

I  confess  me  knit  to  thy  deserving  with  cables  of  perdurable 
toughness.  {0th.  I.  iii.  342). 

Bacon,  reporting  on  the  scarcity  of  silver  at  the  Mint, 
refers  to  the  wasting  of  gold  and  silver  coin — "  Which 
turns  the  nature  of  these  metals  which  ought  to  be  perdur- 
able, and  makes  them  perishable."     ("  Life  "  IV.  259). 

157.  Peregrinate  :  from  Latin — peregrino-atus, — travel 
about  in  foreign  parts — outlandish — alien.  It  is  a  word 
once  used — evidently  coined — by  Holoferness,  the  type  of 
pedantic  affectation. 

Hoi. — He  is  too  picked,  too  spruce,  too  affected,    too  odd,  too 
peregrinate,  as  I  may  call  it. 

Nath. — A  most  singular  and  choice  epithet. 

{L.  L.  L.  V.  i.  14). 

158.  Periapts :  from  the  Greek  TrepLaTTTou,  amulet — what 
is  tied  round  some  part  of  the  body  as  a  charm, — to  keep 
off  disease  or  mischief. 

Now  help,  ye  charming  spells  and  periapts. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  V.  iii.  2). 

159.  Permission.  Used  once  in  the  Latin  sense,  from 
permitio,  perinissiis, — let  loose — make  free  use  of,  without 
reserve, — give  up,  surrender. 

lago,  cynically  describes  love,  as  "Merely  {i.e.,  entirely; 
simply)  a  lust  of  the  blood,  and  a  permission  of  the  will  " 
{0th.  I.  iii.  339).     This  is  clearly  a  reflection  of  the  Latin 


PERMISSIO  VOLUNTATIS.  387 

word  peniiissus,  or  pcrmissio,  which  is  very  frequently  used 
by  Bacon  in  his  philosophical  writings  :  most  frequently 
with  reference  to  a  certain  sort  of  liberty  allowed  to,  (or 
taken  by),  the  understanding,  by  which  its  action  is  left 
unchecked  by  the  restraints  of  logic  or  fact — intellectiis  sibi 
t>ermissus.  This  liberty  is  permitted  at  a  certain  stage  of 
an  induction,  in  order  to  reach  the  required  generalization 
by  a  more  speedy  process.  The  permissio  intellectus  is  then 
equivalent  to  the  liberty  of  forming  hypotheses,  which  is 
permitted  when  induction  has  advanced  sufficiently  for  the 
mind  to  be  able  to  reason  on  the  facts  before  it  although 
they  may  be  incomplete.  See  Nov.  Org.  I.  21,  II.  20,  and 
Professor  Fowler's  note  on  I.  ig  and  II.  20.  Mr,  Ellis 
says,  "The  iphvdiSe permissio  intcllcchis  sufficiently  indicates 
that  in  this  process  the  mind  is  suffered  to  follow  the 
course  most  natural  to  it  ;  it  is  relieved  from  the  restraints 
hitherto  imposed  upon  it,  and  reverts  to  its  usual  state." 
This  explains  what  lago  means  by  a  permission  of  the  will. 
See  Ellis's  General  Preface,  Work  I.  36.  Utile  putamus 
ut  fiat  permissio  intellcctui,  post  tres  tabulas  Comparantiai 
Primas  (quales  possumus)  factas  et  pensitatas,  accingendi 
se  et  tentandi  opus  Interpretationis  Naturae  in  affirmativa 
{Nov.  Org.  II.  20).  We  think  it  desirable  that  the 
unfettered  action  of  the  intellect  should  be  used  after  three 
tables  of  first  preparation  have  been  constructed  and 
weighed.  Bacon,  who  looks  with  suspicion  upon 
hypotheses,  as  lawless  and  untrustworthy,  yet  permits  this 
kind  of  unregulated  freedom  to  make  a  hypothesis  after  the 
mind  has  been  sufficiently  disciplined  by  collecting  facts. 
It  is  a  dangerous  liberty  for  an  undisciplined  mind  ;  for 
Nee  manus  nuda  nee  intellectus  sibi  permissus  multum 
valet :  {Nov.  Org.  I.  2).  Neither  the  naked  hand  nor  the 
intellect  left  to  itself  can  effect  much.  See  also  Nov.  Org. 
I.  20,  21.  He  is  never  weary  of  enforcing  the  maxim  : — 
Intellectum  humanum  sibi  permissum  merito  suspectum 
esse  debere.  {^rei^ce  to  Nov.  Org.).  These  passages  give 
the  necessary  key  to  the  interpretation  of  lago's  description 


388         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

of  love.  He  says  it  is  the  permission  of  the  will,  voluntas 
sibi  pcnnissa  (and  so  it  is  mcrito  suspeda)  i.e.  love  is  not  an 
orderly  freedom  allowed  by  the  will,  it  is  the  will  itself, 
given  up  to  lawlessness  and  disorder,  freed  from  the 
restraints  of  law  and  conscience,  surrendered  to  the  control 
of  desire  and  passion. 

i6o.  Pernicious.  A  word  used  in  a  purely  classic  sense 
by  the  pedantic  Armado, — 

The  pernicious  and  indubitatc  beggar. 

(L.  L.  L.  IV.  i.  66). 

This  represents  the  word  pernix,  derived  probably  from 
per  and  nitor — much  struggling :  hence,  brisk,  nimble  (not 
to  be  got  rid  of,  troublesome).  It  is  possible  that  the  same 
sense  may  be  implied  in  other  passages.  Much  striving  is 
the  sense  in  Shakespeare. 

This  pernicious  slave  .  .  .  outfacing  me, 
Cries  out,  I  was  possessed. 

{Comedy  of  Errors  V.  i.  241). 

Troubled  with  a  pernicious  suitor. 

{Much  Ado.  I.  i.  130). 

See  Horace  Epod.  II.  42.  Pernicis  uxor  Apuli. 
But  probably  the  word  is  used  in  a  sort  of  slangy  style 
in  these  passages ;  like  the  word  predestinate  as  the  retort 
to  the  same  speech  in  the  Much  Ado  passage  : — A  pre- 
destinate scratched  face."  The  word  is  often  used  by 
Shakespeare  in  its  ordinary  sense,  quite  as  it  remains  at 
the  present  time. 

161.  Perpend  is  simply  the  Latin  word  Perpendo, — weigh 
carefully,  or  exactly,  ponder,  consider :  or  as  Polonius, 
after  using  the  word,  immediately  adds, — Mark: — See  Ham. 
H.   ii.   104. 

Also  in  four  other  passages:  Ex.  gr.:~ 

He  loves  the  gallimaufr}'  :  [a  miscellaneous  lot  of  lasses], — Ford: 
perpend!     (iVtT.  IF.  II.  i.  119)- 

Learn  of  tlie  wise,  and  perpend. 

{As  You  Like  It  III.  ii.  69). 


PERSIAN.       PERSON.       PERVERT.  389 

The  word  is  used  only  by  pedantical  speakers  or  pro- 
fessional fools:  Pistol  [bis],  Polonius,  Touchstone  and  Feste 
Olivia's  Clown. 

162.  Persian:  garments,  i.e.,  sumptuous — corresponding 
to  the  Persicos  apparatus  of  Horace,  or  Ornatum  Persicinn 
of  Cicero. 

I  do  not  like  the  fashion  of  your  garments  :  you  will  say  they  are 

Persian  attire  ;  but  let  them  be  changed. 

{Lear  III.  vi.  84). 

This  is  not  unlike  the  Horatian  exclamation  : — 

Persicos  odi,  puer,  apparatus. 

(Carin.  381). 

which  Mr.  Gladstone  translates. 

Off  witli  Persian  gear  : — I  hate  it. 

163.  Person.  Latin  Persona,  a  mask — or  one  who 
impersonates  in  a  play — a  part  or  character  sustained. 

I  then  did  use  the  person  of  your  father, 
The  image  of  his  power  la\'  then  iu  me. 

(2  Hen  IV.  V.  ii.  73). 

Supph'  me  with  the  habit  and  instruct  me, 

How  I  ma}^  formally,  //;  person,  bear  me 

Like  a  true  friar.  {Mens,  for  Meas.  I.  iii.  46). 

Bacon  says  of  the  pretender,  Perkin  Warbeck  :  "But, 
from  his  first  appearance  on  the  stage,  in  his  new  person  of 
a  sycophant,  or  juggler,  instead  of  his  iorvaQV person,  of  a 
prince."     ("  Hen.  VH."— Works  \T.  124). 

164.  Pervert :  is  another  instance  in  which  the  classic 
and  intensive  force  of  the  particle  per  is  used  to  augment 
the  classic  sense  of  the  root.  {See  Permission.)  Vert  is  io 
turn — pervert  is  to  turn  completely  or  thoroughly.  This, 
and  this  alone,  explains  the  use  of  the  word  in  the  following 
passages  : — 

Let's  follow  him,  and  pervert  the  present  wrath, 

He  hath  against  himself. 

{Cynib.  II.  iv.  151). 


'j^" 


390         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN'bACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Trust  not  1113-  holy  order 
It  I  pervert  your  course. 

{Mciis.foi  Mcas.  IV.  iii.  152). 

The  ordinary  current  sense  is  quite  lost  in  these  classic 
uses  of  the  word. 

165.  Plague :  once  used  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin  word 

plaga,  a  snare. 

Wherefore  should  I 
Stand  in  the  plague  of  custom  ? 

[Lear  I.  ii.  2). 

Dr.  Wright  (Clarendon  Ed.)  thinks  that  this  passage  is 
a  reminiscence  of  the  Prayer  Book  version  of  Psalm 
xxxviii.  17.  "And  I,  truly  am  set  in  the  plague  :  "  which 
follows  the  Latin  of  Jerome's  version,  Quia  ego  ad  plagum 
paratus  sum.  It  is  a  curious  passage,  and  cannot  well  be 
explained  without  going  outside  the  vernacular  sense  of 
the  word. 

166.  Plant.  Once  used  as  equivalent  to  planta,  the  sole 
of  the  foot. 

Some  of  their  plants  are  ill  rooted  already ;  the  least  wind  i'  the 

world  will  blow  them  down. 

{Ant.  CI.  II.  vii.  i). 

The  reference  being  to  a  state  of  intoxication,  the  classic 
sense  and  the  vernacular  are  united  in  a  punning  use  of  the 
word. 

167.  Plausibly :  from  the  Latin  plausus,  clapping  of 
hands,  the  sign  of  approval  or  consent  given  by  the 
Romans. 

The  Romans  plausibly  did  give  consent 
To  Tarquin's  everlasting  banishment. 

{Litcrecc  1H54). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  plausible  with  the  same  Latin 
reference  to  the  approval  or  applause  expressed  by  the 
pla7isiis  :  he  speaks  of  the  "  mild  and  plausible  reign  of 
King  Edward  the  Fourth."  ("  Hist.  Hen.  VH."  Works 
VL  29). 


PORT.       PORTABLE.       PREFER.  39I 

168.  Port :  for  the  Latin  porta,  a  gate. 

Sextus  Pompeius 
Makes  his  approaches  to  the  port  of  Rome. 

{Ant.  a.  I.  iii.  45). 

All  ports  I'll  bar. 

{Lear  II.  i.  82). 

Him  I  accuse 
The  city  ports  by  this  hath  enter'd. 

{Cor.  V.  vi.  5). 

169.  Port :  is  also  used  in  a  sense  derived  from  the 
Latin  verb  porio,  to  carry  or  bear ;  and  it  thus  comes  to 
mean  the  state  or  magnificence  which  is  maintained  by 
anyone. 

Thou  shalt  be  master,  Tranio,  in  my  stead, 
Keep  house  and  port  and  servants,  as  I  should. 

{Tain.  Sli.  I.  i.  207). 

The  Duke  himself,  and  the  magnificoes 

Of  greatest  port,  have  all  persuaded  with  him. 

{Mcr.  Ven.  III.  ii.  282). 

I  have  disabled  my  estate 
By  something  showing  a  more  swelling  port, 
Than  my  faint  means  would  grant  continuance. 

{lb.  I.  i.  123). 

170.  Portable :  from  the  same  root,  porto,  to  bear  or 
carry,  hence  endure. 

All  these  (faults)  are  portable 

With  other  graces  wcigh'd. 

{Macb.  IV.  iii.  89). 

How  light  and  portable  my  pain  seems  now. 

{Lear  III.  vi.  115). 

171.  Prefer :  is  often  used  in  a  somewhat  classical  sense, 
answering  to  the  various  senses  of  prce-fero — ^(i.)  hurry 
along  or  away  ;  (ii.)  bring  forward  or  produce.  The  sense 
is  very  fluctuating,  but  all  the  different  senses  may  be 
easily  referred  to  the  classic  derivation. 


392         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Our  haste  from  hence  is  of  so  quick  condition 
Tliat  it  prefers  itself,  and  leaves  unquestion'd 
Matters  of  needful  value. 

{Mcas.  for  Meas.  I.  i.  54). 

If  you  know  any  sucli 
Prefer  them  hither. 

{Tarn.  Sli.  I.  i.  96). 

Or  who  should  study  to  prefer  a  peace, 
If  holy  cluirchmen  take  delight  in  brawls. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  no). 

My  book  preferTd  me  to  the  King. 

(2  Heii.  VI.  IV.  vii.  77). 

172.  Premised :  Latin,  pvcvniitto,  prccviisi,    send  forward, 
in  advance. 

Let  the  premised  flames  of  the  last  day 
Knit  earth  and  heaven  together. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  V.  ii.  41). 

This  is  the  only  instance  of  the  word  being  used. 

173.  Preposterous.  Latin,  prcepono  :  prceposterus,  having 
the  last  first, — distorted,  perverted,  &c.  In  Shakespeare 
the  radical  sense  is  always  intended — an  inverted  order,  a 
misplacement  by  reversal.  Staunton  says,  "  Shakespeare 
uses  preposterous  closer  to  its  primitive  and  literal  sense  of 
inverted  order — va-repov  wporepov — than  is  customary  now." 
Abbott  notes  that  "Preposterous  ass!"  is  applied  {Tarn. 
Sh.  in.  i.  g)  to  a  man  who  puts  music  before  philosophy. 
Puck  says, — 

And  those  things  do  best  please  me 
That  befall  preposterously. 

{M.  N.  Z).  III.  ii.  120). 

lago,  who  is  a  most  philosophical  thinker,  says  : — 

If  the  balance  of  our  lives  had  not  one  scale  of  reason  to  poise 
another  of  sensualit}',  the  blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would 
conduct  us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions. 

{Otli.  I.  iii.  330). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  similarly  in  his  prose  : — "As  there 


PREPOSTEROUS.      PREVENT.  393 

is  order  and  priority  in  nature,  so  there  is  in  time,  the 
preposterous  placing  whereof  is  one  of  the  commonest 
errors;  while  men  fly  to  their  ends,  where  they  should 
intend  their  beginnings,  and  so  do  not  take  things  in  the 
order  of  time  as  they  come  on,  but  marshall  them  accord- 
ing to  greatness,  and  not  according  to  instance,  not  observ- 
ing the  good  precept.  Quod  nunc  instat  agamus."  ("  Adv." 
Op.  III.  469.  See  Instance).  The  same  exact  use  of  the 
word  is  seen  in, — "  Statutes,  which  have  a  manifest  rela- 
tion to  the  time  when  they  were  made,  and  spring  out  of  a 
temporary  emergency  of  state,  when  the  state  of  the  times 
is  altered,  should  have  all  their  due,  if  they  retain  their 
authority  in  the  cases  proper  to  them;  for  it  would  be 
preposterous  to  wrest  them  to  omitted  cases."  (No.  159 
Aphorisms  of  Law — Works  V.  91). 

174.  Prevent :   Latin,  prcsvenio  :    go   before,  anticipate : 
as  in  the  Collect,   "  Prevent  us,  O  Lord,  by  Thy  good- 


ness." 


I  do  find  it  cowardly  and  vile 
For  fear  of  what  might  fall,  so  to  prevent 
The  time  of  life. 

{'Jill.  Cess.  V.  i.  104). 

— i.e.,  to  anticipate  the  end  of  life.  The  reading  of  the 
last  line,  "term"  is  an  emendation  of  modern  editors:  the 
Folio  has  time,  and,  as  Bacon  says,  '*  Man  is  not  to  prevent 
his  time"  ("Adv."  Works  IIL  485);  so  time  may  be, 
and  probably  is,  the  true  reading  in  both  passages.  Hamlet 
says : — 

So  shall  my  anticipation  prevent  3-our  discovery. 

(Ham.  II.  ii.  304). 

Give  my  love  fame,  faster  than  time  wastes  life, 
So  thou  prcvenfst  his  scythe  and  crooked  knife. 

(Sonnet  100). 

Bacon  says,  of  deceits  and  evil  arts,  that  if  they  be  "  first 
espied,  they  lease  their  life;  but  if  they  prevent  they  en- 
danger "  ("  Adv."  Works  in.  430),  the  allusion  being  to  the 


394         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN   LIGHT. 

fabled  basilisk — "  If  he  see  you  first,  you  die  for  it;  but  if 
you  see  him  first,  he  dieth," — a  fable  which  is  often  used, 
in  analogy,  by  Shakespeare  and  Bacon. 

175.  Prevention:  same  root,  is  several  times  used  in 
Shakespeare,  ex.  gr.  : — 

Not  Erebus  itself,  were  dim  enough 
To  hide  thee  from  prevention. 

IJiit.  Cces.  II.  i.  84). 

The  words  prevent  and  prevention  are  almost  invariably 
used  with  a  strict  reference  to  their  original  classical 
meaning. 

176.  Probation:  Mr.  Vining  (Bankside  Sh.)  refers  to  this 
word  as  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  Shakespeare  used 
many  words  "  with  a  meaning  different  from  that  which 
they  ordinarily  convey,  and  which  could  not  have  been 
attributed  to  them  by  anyone  who  was  not  thoroughly 
informed  as  to  the  precise  powers  of  their  Latin  originals." 
Probation  ordinarily  means  trial,  testing.  In  Shakespeare 
it  sometimes  means  simply,  to  prove,  like  the  Latin 
probare. 

A  mantle  .  .  .  which  for  more  probation 

I  can  with  ease  produce.  {Cymb.  V.  v.  362). 

Of  the  truth  herein, 

This  present  object  made  probation. 

{Ham.  I.  i.  154). 

So  prove  it 

That  the  probation  bear  no  hinge  nor  loop 

To  hang  a  doubt  on. 

{Otli.  III.  iii.  365). 

177.  Proditor :  Latin  word  used  as  such,  meaning  a 
betrayer. 

Thou  most  usurping  Proditor, 
And  not  Protector  of  tlie  Kimj  or  realm. 


«> 


(i    Hen.  VI.  I.  iii.  31). 

178.  Propend :  Latin  propendeo,  hang  down,  like  the 
scale  of  a  balance  (lanx  propendet — Cicero);  hence,  to  be 
inclined  to,  favourable  to.     Only  once  used  : — 


PROPENSION.       PKOPUGNATION.       PUDENCY.  395 

My  spritely  brethren,  I  propcnd  to  you. 

(Tr.  Ci-.  II.  ii.  190). 

—I.e.,  the  balance  of  my  judgment  disposes  me  to  agree 
with  you. 

179.  Propension  :  Same  root. 

But  I  attest  the  gods,  your  full  consent 
Gave  wings  to  my  propension,  and  cut  off 
All  fears  attending  on  so  dire  a  project. 

{lb.  132). 

180.  Propugnation:  Latin,  propugnatis,  fighting  in  self- 
defence  :  defending  anything. 

What  propugnation  is  in  one  man's  valour  ? 

{lb.  136). 

iSi.   Pudency:  Latin,  pndens,  bashful,  modest. 

A  pudency  so  ros}'. 

{Cymb.  II.  V.  11). 

Leigh  Hunt  quotes  this  line,  as  well  as  those  in  which 
the  words  errant,  incarnadine,  and  tortive  {q.v.)  occur,  to 
show  that  Shakespeare  "could  anticipate  Milton's  own 
Greek  and  Latin." 

182.  Questant:  From  Latin  qucero  :  I  seek.  It  is  used  in 
the  sense  of  candidate,  one  who  seeks  or  aspires  after  some 
duty  or  honour. 

When  the  bravest  questant  shrinks,  lind  what  you  seek, 

That  fame  may  cry  you  loud. 

{All's  Well  II.  i.  15). 

183.  QucBstrists:  From  the  same  root.  A  word  coined 
by  Shakespeare,  and  used  only  once — in  the  sense  of, 
persons  sent  in  quest  of  another. 

Some  five  or  six  and  thirty  of  his  knights 
Hot  questrists  after  him,  met  him  at  gate. 

{Lear  III.  vii.  16). 

184.  Recordation:  Latin,  recordatio :  recalling  to  mind, 
remembrance,  recollection. 


396         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

I  never  shall  have  length  of  life  enough 
To  rain  upon  remembrance  with  mine  e^'cs, 
That  it  may  grow  and  sprout  as  high  as  heaven. 
For  recordation  to  my  noble  husband. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  II.  iii.  58). 

Shakespeare,  hunting  after  a  synonj-m  for  remembrance, 
\vhich  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  vernacular,  borrows  one 
from  the  Latin. 

To  make  a  recordation  to  my  soul 

Of  every  syllable  that  here  was  spoke. 

{Tro.  Cr.  V.  ii.  116). 

185.  Reduce :  Latin,  reduco:  bring  back,  restore — fre- 
quently used. 

Abate  the  edge  of  traitors,  gracious  Lord, 
That  would  reduce  these  bloody  days  again. 

{Ricli.  III.  V.  V.  35). 

Which  to  reduce  unto  our  former  favour  [appearance  :  aspect] 

You  are  assembled. 

{Hen.  ['.  V.  ii.  63). 

All  springs  reduce  their  currents  to  mine  e3^es. 

(Ricli.  III.  II.  ii.  68). 

'•Some  seek  to  reduce  the  ancient  liberties  and  customs, 
pretended  to  be  lost  and  worn  out."  (Speech,  "Life" 
H.  225). 

"  Consciences  are  not  to  be  forced,  but  to  be  won  and 
reduced  by  the  force  of  truth,  by  the  aid  of  time,  and  the 
use  of  all  good  means  of  instruction  and  persuasion." 
(Obs.  on  a  Libel.     "  Life  "  I,  98,  178). 

Bacon,  at  the  time  of  his  fall,  writes  to  the  Hduse  of 
Lords,  and  professes,  first  of  all,  gladness  that  the  example 
supplied  by  his  fall  "tendeth  to  the  purging  of  the  Courts 
of  Justice,  and  the  reducing  of  them  to  their  true  honour 
and  splendour,"     ("  Life  "  VIL  242). 

The  classic  sense,  which  is  usually  implied,  is  almost 
exactly  the  reverse  of  the  vernacular  sense.  If  a  country 
is  reduced  it  is  conquered  by  violence  ;  here,  on  the  contrary, 


REPELLED.       REPUGNANCY.       REMONSTRANCE.         397 

the  reduction  is  restoration  to  a  former  good  state,  or 
bringing  to  a  better  mind,  by  the  force  of  truth,  time,  and 
all  gentle  methods. 

186.  Refellcd:  Latin  rcfdlo,— show  to  be  false,  disprove, 
rebut,  confute,  dispute.     Once  used. 

How  I  persuaded,  how  I  pray'd,  and  kneel'd, 
How  he  rcfcU'd  me,  and  how  I  repHed, — 

{Meas.for  Mcas.X.  i.  93). 

187.  Religious-ly :  Latin  t'cligiosus,  which  often  means 
faithful,  exact,  strict,  scrupulous,  accurate,  without  refer- 
ence to  any  Divine  sanctions. 

As  thou  lovest  her, 
Thy  love's  to  me  niigioiis ;  else,  does  err. 

(^//'s  T-FtV/n.  iii.  189). 

(See  Err')  i.e.,  By  loving  her,  you  are  faithful  to  me. 

My  learned  lord,  we  pray  you  to  proceed 

And  justly  and  religiously  [with  scrupulous  exactness]  unfold 

Why  the  law  Salique,  etc. 

{Hen.  V.  I.  ii.  9). 

188.  Remonstrance :  Occurs  only  once  in  Shakespeare, 
and  then  with  a  meaning  not  in  the  least  connected  with 
the  usual  sense  of  verbal  protest.  It  is  derived  from  the 
Latin  monstro,  show  ;  the  prefix  re  being  used  in  other 
cases  without  much  modifying  the  sense  of  the  simple  word  ; 
ex.  gr.  regreet  is  much  the  same  as  greet,  or  salute  ;  repas- 
ture,  nearly  the  same  as  pasture,  i.e.  food,  or  fodder, — 
re-proof  sometimes  means  almost  the  same  as  proof, — 
testing,  trial,  ordeal.  The  disguised  Duke  thus  uses  the 
word,  after  his  disguise  is  abandoned  : — 

Your  brother's  death,  I  know,  sits  at  your  heart  ; 

And  you  may  marvel  why  I  obscured  myself, 

Labouring  to  save  his  life,  and  would  not  rather 

Make  rash  rcmoii^lraiicc  of  my  liidden  power, 

Than  let  him  so  be  lost. 

{Mcas.  for  Mais.  V.  i.  394}. 


398         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Here  remonstrance  means  disclosure,  unveiling — a  meaning 
which  comes  from  its  classic  derivation,  not  from  its  current 
usage.  In  its  earlier  usage,  remonstrance  signified  the  art 
of  showing,  a  manifesting,  show  or  display,  or  else  decla- 
ration or  statement,  i.e.  manifestation  by  speech.  This 
meaning  is  now  obsolete  and  almost  forgotten.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  the  old  classic  sense  is  preserved  in  the  only 
instance  in  Shakespeare  in  which  the  word  is  employed. 

The  spies  who  were  sent  by  Henry  VII.  to  counteract 
the  designs  of  Perkin  Warbeck,  endeavoured  to  "draw  off 
the  best  friends  and  servants  of  Perkin,  by  making  remon- 
strance to  them  how  weakly  his  enterprise  and  hopes  were 
built."     (Bacon's  "Hen.  VII.,"  Op.  VI.  143). 

The  libels  against  the  Queen  and  her  Government,  among 
other  varieties,  were  "  sometimes  formed  into  remonstrances 
and  advertisements  of  estate,  to  move  regard."  ("Life" 
I.  147). 

"Faithful  propositions  and  remonstrances,"  on  which 
wise  conclusions  were  founded.     (lb.  iSg). 

189.  Remotion  :  Latin  reniotio, — removal  to  a  distance. 

This  remotion  of  the  Duke  and  her 

Is  practice  only.  {Lear  II.  iv.  115). 

All  thy  safety  were  remotion,  and  thy  defence  absence. 

{Tim on  IV.  iii.  345). 

igo.  Renege  :  From  the  mediaeval  Latin  word  renege, — 
deny,  refuse. 

Such  smiling  rogues  as  these  .  .  . 
Renege,  affirm,  and  turn  their  halcyon  beaks 
With  every  gale  and  vary  of  tlieir  masters. 

{Lear  II.  ii.  79). 

His  captain's  heart, 
Which  in  the  scuffles  of  great  fights  hath  burst 
The  buckles  on  his  breast,  reneges  all  temper. 

{Ant.  CI.  I.  i.  ()). 

191.  Replete :  Latin  repleo,  rcpletns, — filled  up  or  full, 
abundantly  supplied. 


REPUGNANCY.       REPUTE.  399 

Incapable  of  more,  replete  with  you. 

(Son.  113). 

Replete  with  mocks. 

(L.  L.  L.  V.  ii.  853). 

192.  Repugn, — repugnancy, — repugnant:  Latin  repugno, — 
resist,  oppose,  resistance. 

Stubbornly  he  did  repugn  the  truth, 
About  a  certain  question  in  the  law. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  IV.  i.  94). 

Why  do  fond  men  expose  themselves  to  battle 

And  not  endure  all  threats  ?     Sleep  upon't, 

And  let  the  foes  quietly  cut  their  throats 

Without  repugnancy  ? 

{Tiiuon  III.  V.  42). 

His  antique  sword, 

Rebellious  to  his  arm,  lies  where  it  falls. 

Repugnant  to  command. 

{Ham.  II.  ii.  491). 

It  is  worth  notice  how  accurately  the  Poet  uses  the  three 
correlated  words — i,  Oppugnancy ;  2,  Propugnation  ; 
3,  Repugnancy.  Corresponding  to — i,  Active  opposition, 
offensive  war  ;  2,  Fighting  in  self-defence,  defensive  war  ; 
3,  Not  fighting  at  all,  but  passive  resistance, — not  com- 
plying, but  not  obeying. 

193.  Repute  :  Latin  repiUo, — to  reckon,  think  over,  and 
may  mean,  to  suppose  or  consider. 

Mv  foes  I  do  repute  you  everyone. 

(Tit.  A.  I.  i.  366). 

I  have  considered  with  myself  .  .  . 

And  in  my  conscience  do  repute  his  Grace, 

The  rightful  heir  to  England's  royal  seat. 

(2  Hen.   VI.  V.  i.  175)- 

He  reputes  me  a  cannon  ;  and  the  bullet,  that's  lie. 

{L.  L.  L.  HI.  {.65). 

All  in  England  did  )epute  liim  dead. 

(I  Hen.  IV.  V.  i.  54). 


400  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Bacon  speaks  of  "every  reputed  impossibility,"  i.e.  every- 
thing which  is  desired  but  considered  impossible  of 
attainment.     (See  "Adv."  II.  viii.  3.     Op.  III.  363). 

194.  Retentive :  is  used,  as  the  Latin,  retineo,  as  equiva- 
lent to  hold  fast,  or  detain,  in  a  physical,  not  psychologic 
sense. 

Have  I  been  ever  free,  and  must  my  house 
Be  m}'  retentive  enemy,  my  goal  ? 

{Tiinon  III.  iv.  iSi). 

Not  stony  tower,  nor  walls  of  beaten  brass, 
Nor  airless  dungeon,  nor  strong  links  of  iron. 
Can  be  retentive  to  the  strength  of  spirit. 

{J^iit  Cn's.  I.  iii.  93). 

195.  Reverb  .-  once  only  for  reverberate  :  the  Latin  word 
verbero,  and  re — strike  back,  being  understood  ;  re-echo. 

Nor  are  those  empty  hearted,  whose  low  sound 

Reverts  no  hollowness. 

{Lear  I.  i.  155). 

196.  Rivage  :  properly  a  French  word  :  from  the  Latin 
rivus,  a  small  stream.  The  French  meaning,  however,  is 
retained  in  the  one  passage  where  it  occurs,  i.e.,  bank  or 
shore.  A  spectator  of  ships,  standing  on  the  shore,  is 
pictured : — 

O  do  but  think 
You  stand  upon"  the  rivcii^e,  and  behold 
A  city  on  the  inconstant  billows  dancing. 

{Hen.  V.  III.,  Prol.  13). 

197.  Roscius  :  equivalent  to  an  Actor  ;  from  the  name  of 
the  celebrated  Roman  actor.  A  skilful  personator  or  hypo- 
crite is  called  a  Roscius.  This  was  a  classic  usage. 
"  Roscius  was  considered  by  the  Romans  to  have  reached 
such  perfection  in  his  profession,  that  it  became  the  fashion 
to  call  everyone  who  became  particularly  distinguished  in 
the  histrionic  art  by  the  name  of  Roscius."  (Smith's 
Classic  Diet.).     This  technical  use  is  seen  in  : — 


RUINATE.      SACRED.  401 

What  scene  of  death  has  Roscius  now  to  act  ? 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  vi.  10). 

Roscius  is  also  alluded  to  in  Hamlet : — 

When  Roscius  was  an  actor  in  Rome. 

{Ham.  II.  ii.  410). 

ig8.  Ruinate :  Latin  riiina,  a  ruin.  Shakespeare  often 
turns  nouns  into  verbs  ;  ex.  gr., — 

'Tis  still  a  dream,  or  else  such  stuff  as  madmen 

Tongue  and  brain  not. 

{Cynib.  V.  iv.  146). 

In  this  instance  the  noun  becoming  a  verb  is  Latin  :  the 
Latin  word  becoming  an  English  verb. 

I  will  not  ruinate  my  father's  house. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  i.  83). 

That  like  events  may  ne'er  it  ruinate. 

{Tit.  And.,  last  line). 

Seeking  that  beauteous  roof  to  ruinate, 
Which  to  repair  should  be  thy  chief  desire. 

(Sonnet  10). 

igg.  Sacred :  is  frequently  used  in  its  ordinary  sense  : 
but  twice  it  occurs  with  a  meaning  that  is  derived  from 
classic  sources  : 

(i.)  Sacred:  means  accursed,  (exactly  the  reverse  of  the 
vernacular,  which  is  one  of  the  meanings  of  the  Latin 
Sacer :  infamous,  execrable. 

Our  empress,  with  her  sacred  wit, 
To  villany  and  vengeance  consecrate. 

{Tit.  And.  II.  i.  120). 

In  English,  what  is  consecrated  or  dedicated,  and  in  this 

sense  sacred,  is  dedicated  to  good  :  but  a  person  or  thing 

dedicated  to  evil  may   in   classic   usage  be  spoken   of  as 

sacer, — consecrated,   dedicated,  and  thus   sacred   to   such 

base  things  as  villany  and  vengeance. 

cc 


402  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

(ii.)  Sacred:  also  is  used  in  the  sense  of  sacrattis, 
dedicated,  sworn. 

But  if  thou  yield,  I  rest  thy  sacini  friend. 

(Liicrece  526). 

200.  Salve :  is  a  Latin  salutation — Hail !  In  one  passage 
it  is  punningly  connected  with  the  English  word  salve,  an 
ointment.     (See  Love's  Labour's  Lost  III.  i.  71-83). 

201.  Scope :  used  twice  in  the  classic  sense — scopos, 
(TKOTToe,  a  mark  or  aim  at  which  one  shoots. 

'Tis  conceived  to  scope. 

{Tiiiion  I.  i.  72). 

Theobald  paraphrases  this  as  follows  : — •"  Your  conception 
hits  the  mark  it  aims  at." 

Your  scope  is  as  mine  own. 

{Mccis.  for  Meas.  I.  i.  65). 

In  other  passages  the  word  is  used  in  its  ordinary  sense. 

"  Other  errors  there  are  in  the  scope  that  men  propound 
to  themselves."  (See  Bacon's  "  Advancem.ent  of  Learning  " 
II.  V,  g.     Op.  III.  293). 

202.  Sect:  Latin  s^co,  secttnn  :  cut, — a  cutting. 

Our  unbitted  lusts,  whereof  I  take  this  that  you  call  love  to  be  a 
sect  or  scion.  {Otli.  I.  iii.  335). 

This  is  the  only  instance  ;  in  its  ordinary  sense,  or  as 
equivalent  to  sex,  it  occurs  occasionally. 

203.  Secure, — securely, — security:  Latin  Securus,  i.e.,  sine 
curd ;  free  from  care,  unconcerned,  careless,  heedless, 
negligent,  unguarded. 

Page  is  an  ass  :  a  secure  ass  :  he  will  trust  his  wife  ;  he  will  not  be 
jealous.  {Mcr.  W.  II.  ii.  314). 

Open  the  door,  secure,  foolhardy  king. 

{Rich.  II.  V.  iii.  43). 

The  speaker,  York,  thinks  the  king  is  anything  but  secure, 
as  we  use  the  word — for  he  is  closeted  with  a  traitor, — not 
safe,  and  taking  no  precautions  for  safety. 


SECURE.       SECURITY.  403 

We  see  the  wind  sit  sore  upon  our  sails, 
And  yet  we  strike  not,  but  securely  perish. 

{Rkii.  II.  n.  i.  265). 

Security  is  mortals'  chiefest  enemy. 

{Macb.  III.  V.  32). 

In  Latin,  secuncs  means  free  from  care,  not  necessarily  safe. 
Shakespeare  uses  secure  much  oftener  in  this  than  in  the 
modern  sense.  Cf.  Rich.  II.  III.  ii.  34:  "  BoHngbroke 
through  our  security  grows  strong  ;  "  and  Jul.  Cess.  II.  iii. 
8:  ''Security  gives  way  to  conspiracy"  [i.e.,  opens  the 
path,  affords  the  opportunity].  A  hna  of  Ben  Jonson's 
well  illustrates  this  meaning:  "Men  may  securely  sin,  but 
safely  never."     And  see  especially  Troilus  II.  ii.  16  :— 

The  wound  of  peace  is  surety. 
Surety  secure ;  but  modest  doubt  is  called 
The  beacon  of  the  wise. 

The  same  meaning  is  seen  in  : 

This  happy  night  the  Frenchmen  are  scenic, 
Having  all  day  caroused  and  banqueted. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  II.  i.  II). 

And— 

Upon  my  scenic  hour  thy  uncle  stole. 

{Hani.  I.  V.  61). 

W.  Aldis  Wright  refers  to  Proverbs  iii.  29,  "  Devise 
not  evil  against  thy  neighbour,  seeing  he  dwelleth  securely 
by  thee." 

Bacon  uses  the  word  in  the  same  way:  "Security  is  an 
ill  guard  for  a  kingdom."  (Letter  to  Villiers.  "Life" 
VI.  20). 

"  Neither  let  any  prince  or  State  be  secure  concerning 

discontentments,   because  they  have  been  often,  or  have 

been   long,    and   yet   no  peril   hath    ensued."      (Essay  of 
^'Seditions"). 

Bacon  quotes  Seneca  :   "  It  is  true  greatness  to  have  in 

one  the  frailty  of  a  man   and  the  security  of  a  god  :   Vere 


404         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN   LIGHT. 

innpinin,    habere  fragilitatcm    hominis,    secnritatem    Dei." 
(Essay  of  "Adversity"). 

Bacon  habitually  quotes  from  memor}^  and  very  fre- 
quently with  verbal  inaccuracy.  The  passage  he  refers  to 
is  " Ecce,  res  magna,  habere  imbecilitatem  hominis,  securi- 
tateni  Dei." 

204.  Seen  :  Once  used  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin  Spectatus 
i.e.,  well  versed,  or  skilled — of  proved  capacity  or  reputa- 
tion, as  in  Virgil's  ^Eneid  VIII.  151: — 

Sunt  nobis  forfia  hello 
Pectora,  sunt  aninii  ct  rebus  spciiiiht  jiivcntiis. 

A  schoolmaster,  Weil  seen  in  music. 

(Taiii  Slircic  I.  ii.  133). 

"  Well  seen  in  minerals "  is  in  Marlowe's  Faust  i.  137. 
"Seen  in  nothing  but  epitomes"  {Massacre  of  Paris  I.  viii.). 

Bacon  often  uses  the  word  in  this  way :  "...  Sebas- 
tian Gabata,  a  man  seen  and  expert  in  cosmography  and 
invention."  ("  Hen.  VII.,"  Op.  VI.  ig5).  "  Many  may 
be  well  seen  in  the  passages  of  government,  which  are  to 
seek  in  little  and  punctual  occasions."  ("Adv."  I.  iii.  8, 
Op.  III.  280).  Punctual  is  here  used  in  its  classic  sense, 
derived  from  punctmn,  a  small  point.  "  You  shall  have  of 
them  [i.e.,  physicians]  antiquaries,  poets,  humanists,  states- 
men, merchants,  divines,  and  in  every  one  of  these  better 
seen  than  in  their  profession  "  ("Adv.  of  L."  II.  x.  2,  Op. 

HI.  372). 

Bacon  quotes  ("Adv."  I.  iii.  9,  Op.  III.  297)  the  descrip- 
tion of  Moses  in  Acts  vii.  22:  "  He  was  seen  in  all  the 
learning  of  the  Egyptians."  The  Authorised  Version  has 
learned. 

205.  Segregation :  dispersion;  from  the  Latin,  segrego : 
set  apart,  separate,  keep  asunder.     Only  once  used  : 

A  segregation  of  the  Turkish  fleet. 

(0///.  II.  i.  10). 

206.  Semblable:  resemblance.  Either  a  French  word  or 
from  the  Latin,  Similis. 


SEMBLABLE.       SENSIBLE.  405 

His  seuiblable  is  his  mirror. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.  124J. 

His  semblablc,  yea  himself,  Timon  disdains. 

{Timon  IV.  iii.  22). 

It  is  a  wonderful  thing  to  see  the  scmblable  coherence  of  his  men's 
spirits  and  his.  (2  Hen.  IV.  V.  i.  72). 

— i.e.,  Justice  Shallow  and  his  servants  are  so  like  one 
another  that  they  all  seem  to  belong  to  one  another, — to 
make  one  set. 

207.  Sensible :  Latin,  scnsibilis :  perceptible  to  the 
senses. 

Art  thou  not,  fatal  vision,  sensible 

To  feeling  as  to  sight  ? 

{Macb.  II.  i.  36). 

Before  my  God,  I  might  not  this  believe, 
Without  the  sensible  and  true  avouch 
Of  mine  own  eyes. 

(Ham.  I.  i.  56). 

The  word  is  mostly  poetically  employed,  being  full  of 
interior  and  remote  significance,  in  such  a  passage  as  the 
following : — 

And  even  there,  his  eye  being  big  with  tears. 
Turning  his  face,  he  put  his  hand  behind  him, 
And  with  affection  wondrous  sensible 
He  wrung  Bassano's  hand  :  and  so  they  parted. 

{Mcr.  Ven.  II.  viii.  46). 

The  use  of  the  word  is  typically  illustrated,  sometimes 
in  a  punning  way  (as  in  the  passage  from  Tarn.  Sh.)  in  the 
following  passages  : — 

I  would  your  cambric  were  sensible  as  your  iingcr,  that  you  might 

leave  pricking  it,  for  pity. 

(Cor.  I.  iii.  94). 

Curtis  has  been  struck  on  the  ear  by  Grumio,  and  says: 

This  is  to  feci  a  tale,  not  to  hear  a  tale. 
Grumio. — And  therefore  'tis  called  a  sensible  talc. 

{Tarn.  Sh.  IV.  i.  65). 


406         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Madam,  there  is  alighted  at  your  gate 

A  young  Venetian,  one  that  comes  before 

To  signify  the  approaching  of  his  lord; 

From  whom  he  bringeth  sensible  regrects, 

To  wit, — besides  commends  and  courteous  breath, 

Gifts  of  rich  value. 

{Mcr.  Veil.  II.  ix.  86). 

— i.e.,  the  "commends  and  courteous  breath"  are  not  so 
properly  termed  sensible  greetings,  as  the  gifts  of  rich  valu^ 
which  are  sensible — i.e.,  perceptible  to  the  senses. 

Bacon  writes  in  his  "Apology  ": — "  Upon  which  speeches 
of  mine,  uttered  with  some  passion,  it  is  true  her  Majesty 
was  exceedingly  moved,  and  accumulated  a  number  of 
kind  and  gracious  words  upon  me,  .  .  .  and  a  number  of 
sensible  and  tender  words  and  demonstrations."      ("  Life" 

III.  158). 

208.  Septentrion.  Used  once  for  the  Latin  Septentrio:  the 

North. 

Thou  art  as  opposite  to  every  good 

As  the  Antipodes  are  unto  us. 

Or  as  the  South  to  the  Sepfeiitrion. 

{3  Hen.  VI.  l.W.  133). 

209.  Sequent:  Latin,  scqiior,  follow — successive,  one 
following  another. 

The  galleys 
Have  sent  a  dozen  sequent  messengers, 
This  very  night  at  one  another's  heels. 

{Otli.  I.  ii.  40). 

Here  he  hath  framed  a  letter  to  a  sequent  of  the  stranger  queen's. 

(I.  L.  L.  IV.  ii.  142). 

210.  Stuiular:  Latin,  siiiiulo;  copy,  imitate,  counterfeit, 
feign. 

Thou  perjured,  and  thou  siiuular  man  of  virtue, 

Thou  art  incestuous. 

{Lear  III.  ii.  54). 

My  practice  so  prc\aird, 
That  I  returned  witli  siiuular  proof  enough. 


SOLEMN.       SORT.       SPECULATION.  407 

To  make  the  noble  Leonatus  mad. 

{Cymb.  V.  v.  199). 

This  is  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  bring  over  a  Latin  word 
into  the  vernacular. 

211.  Solemn :  Latin,  soleumis :  stated,  wonted,  usual, 
established;  applied  to  a  State  or  ceremonial  occasion.  The 
current  sense  of  grave  or  serious  is  not  the  only  sense  in 
Shakespeare.  In  the  following  passages  the  meaning 
reverts  to  its  classic  origin. 

My  lords,  a  solciiiii  hunting  is  in  hand. 

{Tit.  A.  II.  i.  112). 

To-night  we  hold  a  solemn  supper,  sir, 
And  I'll  request  your  presence. 

{Macb.  Ill,  i.  14). 

Therefore  are  feasts  so  solemn  and  so  rare, 

Since,  seldom  coming,  in  the  long  year  set. 

Like  stones  of  worth  they  thinly  placed  are, 

Or  captain  jewels  in  the  carcanet. 

(Son.  52). 

212.  Sort :  Once  used  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin  word 
sors,  a  lot. 

No,  make  a  lottery. 

And,  by  device,  let  blockish  Ajax  draw 

The  sort,  to  fight  with  Hector. 

{Tro.  Cr.  I.  iii.  374). 

There  is  evidently  a  double  meaning,  including  the 
classic  one  in  the  following  : — 

They  have  acquainted  me  with  their  determinations,  which  is, 
...  to  trouble  you  witli  no  more  sort,  unless  you  can  be  won  by 
some  other  sort  than  your  father's  imposition,  depending  on  the 
caskets.  {Mer.  V.  I.  ii.  no). 

The  casket  device  made  the  disposal  of  Portia  in 
marriage  a  kind  of  lottery,  and  the  word  sort,  thus  used,  is 
most  appropriate.  Richard  Grant  White  favoured  this 
interpretation. 

2 1  J.   Speculation,  speculative  :  Speculation  is  always  used 


408         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

by  Shakespeare  and  often  by  Bacon  in  reference  to  the 
sight  of  the  eyes,  not  of  the  mind,— physical  sight,  not 
intellectual  vision  ;  though  the  latter  may,  and  generally 
is  connotated,  the  word  being  used  in  a  very  metaphysical, 
almost  a  scholastic  way. 

Thou  hast  no  spcciilulioii  \n  those  eyes 

Which  thou  dost  glare  with.  (Macb.  III.  iv,  95). 

Speculation  turns  not  to  itseh" 

Till  it  hath  travell'd,  and  is  mirror'd  there 

Where  it  may  see  itself. 

{Tw.  Cr.  III.  iii.  109). 

i.e.  the  eye  cannot  look  directly  at  itself. 

Though  we  upon  this  mountain's  basis  by 

Took  stand  for  idle  speculation. 

[Hen.  V.  IV.  ii.  30). 

i.e.  although  they  were  to  look  on  and  take  no  share  in 
the  battle.  The  Latin  word  specula,  a  watch-tower,  may 
be  reflected  in  this  passage  ;  as  also  in  the  following, — 

Servants,  who  seem  no  less, 

Which  arc  to  France  the  spies  and  speculations, 

Intelligent  of  our  state. 

[Lear  III.  i.  23). 

My  speculative  and  officed  instruments. 

{0th.  I.  iii.  271). 

Othello's  speech  is  purely  Ciceronian ;  it  means  my 
faculties  which  are  devoted  to  observation  and  duty. 

Bacon  writes,  of  superstitious  stories  of  sorceries,  etc.  : 
— "  From  the  speculation  and  consideration  of  them,  light 
may  be  taken."     ("Adv."  II.   i.    4.     Op.  III.  331). 

And  he  speaks  of  "  direction  of  works  from  the  speculation 
of  causes."  ("Adv."  II.  viii.  3.  Op.  III.  363).  Obviously, 
in  these  passages,  the  word  speculation  refers  to  outward 
perception,  and  consideration  to  mental  operation  that 
follows. 

214  {a).  Stellcd :  Is  used  in  two  distinct  significations, 
one  from  the  Latin,  the  other  from  the  Greek. 


STELLED.      STUPRUM.       SUBSTITUTE.       SUCCESS.        4O9 

The  Latin,  stclla,  a  star,  or  constellation,  or  stcllatus, 
glittering  like  stars,  is  reflected  in  the  following  :— Of  Lear 
in  the  storm  it  is  said — 

The  sea, — with  such  a  storm  as  his  bare  head 

In  hell-black  night  endured, — would  have  buoy'd  up 

And  quench'd  the  stcUcd  fires. 

(Atvrr  III.  vii.  59). 

In  this  passage  Bacon's  frequently  expressed  belief  that 
"  the  stars  are  true  fires  "  may  be  traced. 

215  {b).  Stelled :   From  aWAAa),  fix,  set  in  its  place. 

Mine  eye  hath  play'd  the  painter,  and  hath  slell'd 

Thy  beauty's  form  in  table  of  mv  heart. 

(Son.  24). 

To  this  well-painted  piece  is  Litcrcce  come, 

To  find  a  face  wliere  all  distress  is  stell'd. 

{Litcrcce  1443). 

It  is  worth  noting  that  in  both  these  (the  only)  passages 
in  which  this  curious  word  is  used,  the  painter's  art  is 
referred  to. 

216.  Stuprnm :  This  Latin  word  is  used,  without  expla- 
nation, in  Tit.  A.   IV.  i.  78. 

217.  Substitute  :  From  the  Latin  sub  and  statuo,  place 
under.  It  is  applied  to  a  subordinate,  not  necessarily  a 
representative  position  ;  or  it  is  simply  used  for  an  appoint- 
ment. 

But  who  is  subslilutcd  'gainst  the  French, 

I  have  no  certain  notice. 

(2  Hen.  /!'.  I.iii.  84). 

You  speedy  helpers,  that  are  siibsiitiitcs 
Under  the  lordly  monarch  of  the  North. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  V.  iii.  5). 

218.  Success:  Often  used,  both  by  Bacon  and  Shake- 
speare, to  signify  the  issue  or  result  of  anything,  whether 
the  event  is  good  or  evil,  favourable  or  the  reverse.  It 
thus  follows  the  Latin  word  succcdo,  follow,  succeed  ;  or 
successjis,  that  which  has  followed  or  taken  the  place  of  its 
predecessor. 


410         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    I5AC0NIAN    LIGHT. 

And  so  success  of  miscliicf  shall  be  born. 

(2  Hen.  /!'.  IV.  ii.  47). 

i.e.  one  mischief  after  another  shall  arise. 

Is  your  blood 
So  madl}-  hot  that  no  discourse  of  reason, 
Nor  fear  of  bad  success  in  a  bad  cause, 
Can  qualify  the  same  ? 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  ii.  115). 

The  success, 
Although  particular,  shall  give  a  scantling 

Of  good  or  bad  unto  the  general. 

(lb.  I.  iii.  340). 

Eros. — Ca2sar  and  Lepidus  have  made  wars  upon  Pompey. 
Euo. — This  is  old  :  what  is  the  success  ? 

(Ant.  C/.  III.  V.  4). 

Should  you  do  so,  my  lord. 
My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success, 
As  mv  thoughts  aim  not  at. 

{0th.  III.  iii.  221). 

Bacon  also  follows  the  Latin,  and  uses  the  original  word 
in  his  Latin  writings.  Si  major  est  successus  spe,  videtur 
aliquod  lucri  factum.     ("  Medit.  Sac."     Op.  VIL  237). 

"In  choice  of  instruments,  it  is  better  to  choose  men  of 
plainer  sort,  that  are  like  to  do  that  that  is  committed  to 
them,  and  to  report  back  again  faithfully  the  success.'' 
(Essay  47). 

"  Because  true  history  propoundeth  the  successes  and 
issues  of  actions  not  so  agreeable  to  the  merits  of  virtue 
and  vice,  therefore  poesy  feigns  them  more  just  in  retribu- 
tion, and  more  according  to  revealed  Providence."  ("Adv." 
n.  iv.  2.     Op.  in.  343). 

2ig.  Siippliance  :  Occurs  only  once.  It  is  evidently  taken 
from  the  Latin  word  supplco,  fill  up,  make  fall. 

The  perfume  and  sttppUauce  of  a  minute. 

{Ham.  I.  iii.  9). 

The  Clarendon  Edition  says  that  this  "means  probably, 
as  Mason  says,  an  amusement  to  fill  up  a  vacant  minute." 


SUSPIRE.       TENABLE.       TERMS.  4II 

Bacon  has  "  Desire  of  revenge, — the  supplying  of  a 
wound."     (Conference  of  Pleasure.     Love). 

220.  Suspire :  Latin  stispiro,  to  breathe,  or  breathe 
deeply. 

For  since  the  birth  of  Cain,  the  first  male  child, 
To  him  that  did  but  yesterday  suspire. 

{John  III.  iv.  79). 

Did  he  suspire,  that  light  and  weightless  down 

Perforce  must  move. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  IV.  v.  32). 

These  are  the  only  instances  of  this  word.  Sir  Thomas 
More  has,  "  suspyring  and  sighing  after  the  joys  of  heaven," 
in  which  the  word  is  used  for  aspiration  or  deep  breathing, 
as  Shakespeare  uses  the  next  word. 

221.  Suspiration  :  same  root,  more  accurately  used  in 
the  proper  Latin  sense  of  suspiro,  breathe  deeply,  or  sigh. 

Windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath. 

[Ham.  I.  ii.  79). 

This  word  occurs  only  once. 

222.  Tenable  :  Latin,  teiio  :  hold  or  keep.     Once  only. 

Let  it  be  tenable  in  3'our  silence  still. 

{Ham.  I.  ii.  248). 

223.  Terms :  Latin,  terminus — end,  conclusion,  limit. 

Without  all  teiins  of  pity. 

{^Alfs  Well  II.  iii.  173). 

Defended  it  with  any  terms  of  zeal. 

{Men  I'en.  V.  i.  205). 

The  current  meaning  of  the  word  may  be  combined,  by 
a  sort  of  double  meaning,  with  the  classic  sense,  as  in  the 
second  passage. 

224.  Translate:  Latin,  transfero  —  translatus  —  in  the 
physical  sense  of  conveyance  or  removal. 

I  ied  them  on  in  this  distracted  fear, 


412  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    15ACONIAN    LIGHT. 

And  left  sweet  P^Tamus  translated  there. 

{M.  N.  D.  III.  ii.  31). 

225.  Umber'd :  Latin,  umbra  a  shadow. 

Each  battle  sees  the  other's  uinbci'd  face. 

[Hcu.  V.  IV.  Chorus  9). 

With  perhaps   a  double  or  inclusive  meaning,   of  dark, 
brown,  umber  coloured. 

226.  Umbrage:    same    root.       Used    only  once  in  ped- 
antical,  affected  speech. 

His  semblable  is  his  mirror  ;  and  who  else  would  trace  him,  his 
umbrage,  nothing  more. 

{Ham.  V.  ii.  124). 

227.  Uncivil :  see  Civil. 

228.  Unconfinable  :  see  Confine. 

229.  Unsisting :    Latin  sisio,  stand  still ;    with  negative 
prefi.x,  unsisting  therefore  means,  never  at  rest. 

That  spirit's  possessed  with  haste 
That  wounds  the  iiiisisfing  postern  with  these  strokes. 

{Measure  for  Measure  IV.  ii.  91). 

230.  Unseminared :  Evidently  a  Latin  word  in  an  English 
dress  ;  used  by  Cleopatra  to  describe  Mardian,  the  Eunuch. 

'Tis  well  for  thee 
That  being  uiiseminard,  thy  freer  thoughts 
May  not  fly  forth  of  Egypt. 

(.-!/;/.  C/.  I.  V.  10). 


It  IS  scarcely  necessary  to  give  articulate  voice  to  the 
argument  arising  out  of  this  copious  and  refined  Latinity, 
— this  large  and  comprehensive  familiarity  with  classic 
language,  classic  literature,  classic  history,  classic  antiquity. 
If  such  accomplishments  could  be  the  product  of  Edu- 
cation in  a  remote  country  grammar  school  ot  the  i6th 
century,  we  have  certainly  suffered  most  lamentable 
deterioration  during  the  last  three  hundred  years. 

Now  when  we  bring  into  a  focus  all  these  evidences  of 


SHAKESPEARE    AS    A   CLASSIC.  413 

classic  learning,  the  contention  that  the  poet  was  not  an 
imperfectly  educated  rustic,  but  a  scholar  well  read  and 
highly  trained,  endowed  with  such  knowledge  as  schools 
of  the  highest  class  and  universities  supply,  in  short  a  man 
not  unlike  Francis  Bacon,  cannot  be  dismissed  with  a 
snap-finger  gesture  of  contempt,  as  a  baseless  crank  not 
worth  discussing.  Whether  as  a  fact  the  poet  was  learned 
or  not,  yet  assuredly  the  assumption  that  he  was  is  the 
readiest  and  easiest  explanation  of  these  facts.  And  the 
more  we  study  Shakespeare  the  more  is  this  first  impression 
confirmed.  For  he  must  be  read  as  any  other  classic 
author  is  read, — with  elucidations  derived  not  only  from 
early  English  history  and  language,  but  from  the  Latin 
Dictionary,  from  the  whole  realm  of  Greek  and  Roman 
history,  literature,  antiquity,  and  mythology.  We  must 
construe  and  translate  his  words,  trace  his  allusions  to 
their  sources.  He  takes  his  place  side  by  side  with 
Virgil,  Horace,  and  Ovid ;  with  Cicero,  Tacitus,  and 
Thucydides ;  with  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  Cicero  ;  with 
^schylus,  Sophocles,  and  Homer;  —  all  require  the  same 
critical  apparatus  and  minute  study.  And  the  same 
educational  advantage  which  is  found  in  the  study  of 
the  Ancients  remains  with  this  modern  classic  ;  the  same 
mental  stimulus,  — the  same  analytic  subtlety  to  bring 
words  into  their  proper  relations, — the  same  drill  in  the 
philosophy  and  logic  of  language, — the  same  antidote  to 
the  insularity  and  narrowness  of  view  that  is  apt  to 
accompany  a  merely  utilitarian  education, —  the  same 
necessity  of  looking  with  understanding  and  sympathy 
on  all  varieties  of  character  and  fortune,  on  all  types  of' 
civilization,  in  ancient  and  modern  times.  This  is  Shake- 
speare's great  charm  and  inestimable  value.  And  to 
suppose  that  all  this  globe  of  knowledge,  this  largeness 
and  liberality  of  view  could  have  come  from  the  education 
supplied  by  a  sixteenth-century  very  insignificant  grammar 
school  with  its  social  environments,  is  about  as  extravagant 
as  any  other  reported  case  of  spontaneous  generation,  which 


414         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

most  scientific  men  would  dismiss  as  unworthy  of  serious 
discussion  or  investigation.  The  maxim  omne  vivum  ex  ovo 
is  as  true  in  hterature  as  in  biology,  and  the  philosophy  of 
causation  requires  that  there  should  always  be  adaptation 
and  proportion  between  antecedent  and  consequent.  The 
o%nim  for  the  Shakespearean  vivum  is,  from  the  accepted 
point  of  view,  absolutely  non-existent. 

So  then  the  controversy  between  Baconians  and  Shake- 
speareans  is  but  another  branch  of  the  old  yet  ever  new 
quarrel  in  natural  philosophy  between  Superstition  and 
Science, — between  the  advocates  of  miracles  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  vindicators  of  natural  causation  on  the  other. 
Coleridge  seems  to  have  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  of  this 
when  he  put  the  keen  qnestion, — not  then  capable  of  being 
answered, — "What,  are  we  to  have  miracles  in  sport  ?  Or,  I 
speak  reverently,  does  God  choose  idiots  by  whom  to  convey 
divine  truths  to  men  ?  "  Shakespearans  endeavour  to 
explain  Shakespeare  and  the  genesis  of  his  genius  by  the 
guesses  and  legends  and  myths  which  naturally  arise  when 
superstition  usurps  the  place  of  science.  Baconians  give 
natural  and  reasonable  explanations  in  solid  and  well 
established  facts,  and  bring  the  teaching  of  that  positive 
philosophy  which  governs  all  enquiry  into  the  order  and 
phenomena  of  nature,  to  refute  the  crude  parthenogenesis 
of  their  opponents.  With  Shakespeareans  the  poet  is 
"the  rarest  argument  of  wonder  that  hath  shot  up  in 
our  latter  times,"  and  they  hold  up  their  hands  with  pious 
horror, — perhaps  clench  their  fists  in  unholy  wrath, — when 
they  meet  with  those  troublesome  "  Baconizers,"  who 
"  make  modern  and  familiar  things  supernatural  and  cause- 
less." Thus  it  must  always  be  when  new  light  is  offered 
to  the  obscurantists  who  hold  possession.  Baconians  can 
easily  endure  the  taunts  and  anathemas  so  freely  launched 
against  them,  for  they  know  that  they  bring  light  and  order 
to  the  ancient  abodes  of  Darkness  and  Confusion,  and  thus 
promote  the  Extension  of  that  Kingdom  of  Man  which  was 
so  bright  and  precious  a  vision  to  Bacon's  prophetic  soul. 


415 


APPENDIX, 

ON    THE   AUTHORSHIP   OF   MARLOWE; 
WITH    SPECIAL    REFERENCE  TO    EDWARD  II. 


My  primary  aim  in  this  work  is  to  claim  for  Bacon  the 
authorship  of  Shakespeare,  and  to  show  how  much  new 
light  is  thus  cast  on  the  Shakesperean  drama.  This  theory 
is,  I  know,  daily  gaining  ground  :  it  is  only  a  matter  of 
time  for  it  to  become  generally  accepted.  Its  progress 
has  been  somewhat  retarded  by  the  imprudent  and 
extravagant  writings  of  its  advocates — by  impossible  cypher 
speculations,  and  by  absolutely  untenable  extensions  of 
the  Bacon  claim  to  other  writings^till  it  seems  as  if  the 
whole  literature  of  the  Elizabethan  time  and  of  some 
generations  later  would  be  swept  into  this  enclosure. 

It  may  seem  as  if  I  myself  enter  the  camp  of  these 
riotous  literati  by  claiming  for  Bacon  some,  if  not  all,  of 
Marlowe's  works.  But,  whether  the  arguments  which  I 
shall  produce  are  judged  to  be  solid  or  the  reverse, 
I  think  any  impartial  critic  may  at  once  satisfy  himself  that 
there  is  a  unique  and  exceptional  character  in  "Marlowe," 
which  justifies  careful  enquiry  into  its  origin,  and  brings 
it  into  closer  relationship  with  Shakespeare  than  any  other 
part  of  Elizabethan  literature.  The  general  reasons  which 
make  Shakespeare's  relation  to  Marlowe  a  very  open 
question  are  such  as  these  : — 

I,  The  Shakesperean  drama  did  not  begin  to  appear  till 
the  poet  was  far  advanced  in  middle  life.  Bacon  was 
nearly  40   years   old  when  the   first  play   was    published 


4l6  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

under  the  name  of  Shakespeare.  William  Shakespeare 
was  about  35.  Now  genius  of  this  type  ripens  early — it  is 
likely  to  manifest  itself  before  life's  second  decade  has 
been  completed;  and  if  Bacon  wrote  under  cover  of  a 
name  not  his  own,  he  may  have  used  other  dissembling 
garments. 

2.  If  such  earlier  works  exist,  they  probably  resemble 
such  plays  as  i  Henry  VI.  or  Titus  Andronicus,  which 
many  critics  hand  over  to  Marlowe,  with  some  other  early 
Shakesperean  plays. 

3.  There  is  a  general  consensus  among  critics  that 
Marlowe's  work  possesses  marked  Shakesperean  attributes, 
such  as  belong  to  no  other  poetry  of  the  time,  except 
Shakespeare's. 

4.  In  the  poems  attributed  to  Marlowe  there  are  large 
portions  which  Marlowe  could  not  have  written  :  and  there 
is  an  obscurity  about  the  production  of  them  all. 

5.  Many  critics  admit,  in  almost  express  terms,  that 
Marlowe's  poetry  has  such  a  strong  resemblance  to  Shake- 
speare's, that  it  is  not  easy  to  distinguish  between  "  master 
and  man."  This  is  Mr.  Bullen's  expression.  Mr.  Russell 
Lowell's  is  still  more  striking  and  compromising ;  it  will 
be  found  in  the  following  pages.  So  also  is  that  of  Mr. 
H.  A.  Kennedy.  Professor  Dowden's  testimony  is  almost 
as  strong  : — "  It  is  amongst  the  pre-Shakespereans  that  we 
lind  the  man  who,  of  all  the  Elizabethan  dramatists,  stands 
next  to  Shakespeare  in  poetic  stature  ;  the  one  man,  who, 
if  he  had  lived  longer  and  accomplished  the  work  which 
lay  clear  before  him,  might  have  even  stood  beside  Shake- 
peare  as  supreme  in  a  different  province  of  dramatic  art." 
This  is  true,  but  I  see  no  reason  for  assigning  to  Marlowe 
a  *'  different  province."  Marlowe  occupies  one  of  the 
many  departments  of  the  Shakespeare  realm  :  he  might 
have  enlarged  his  domain,  as  Shakespeare  did. 

Mr.  Charles  Grant  says  of  Faustus,  that  it  was  "the 
first  word  which  bore  the  unmistakable  impress  of  that 
tragic  power,  which  was  to  find  its  highest  embodiment  in 


SHAKESPEARE  AND  MARLOWE  ORIGINALLY  UNITED.       417 

Lear  dind  Macbeth ;  in  Hamlet  and  Othello."  The  signifi- 
cance of  these  judgments  cannot  be  disputed.  They 
recognize  an  organic  relation  between  Shakespeare  and 
Marlowe,  which  requires  explanation,  and  gives  to  our  own 
a  right  of  entry, 

6.  Marlowe's  style  is  very  distinctive  ;  it  constantly  tends 
to  boldness,  extravagance, — to  what  is  termed  the  Ercles 
Vein.  It  is  young,  crude,  wanting  in  self-restraint  and 
proportion.  Now  exactly  this  style,  with  the  crudity  and 
want  of  balance  generally,  but  not  always,  left  behind, 
remained  Shakespeare's  style  up  to  the  last.  The  Marlowe 
tones  are  to  be  heard  in  even  the  most  advanced  of  the 
Shakesperean  plays.  Some  illustrations  of  these  state- 
ments will  be  found  in  the  following  pages. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  two  Baconian  theories, — 
Shakespeare  and  Marlowe, — mutually  sustain  one  another. 
If  it  can  be  shown  that  Bacon  probably  wrote  Marlowe, 
his  claim  to  Shakespeare  will  at  once  be  accepted  as  ante- 
cedently probable. 

If  the  author  of  Shakespeare — (Bacon,  or  any  other 
writer,) — wrote  any  part  of  Marlowe,  William  Shak- 
spere's  hold  on  the  works  assigned  to  him  is  loosened  ; 
the  evidence  that  connects  him  with  Shakespeare,  'the 
evidence  of  title  pages,  and  I  know  of  no  other,  is 
weakened  and  brought  into  suspicion  ;  I  might  almost  say 
is  annihilated. 

If  the  name  of  the  writer  and  the  name  on  the  title  pages 
are  not  the  same,  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  improbable 
that  the  real  author  was  one  who  depended  for  success  on 
personal  notoriety.  Writings  which  are  published  from 
commercial  motives  are  not  usually  issued  anonymously, 
or  under  a  noni  de  plume.  And  we  are  often  told  by 
Shakspere  biographers  that  William  Shakspere's  chief  or 
even  sole  motive  in  publishing  his  dramas  was  to  fill  his 
"  house  "  with  a  profitable  audience. 

If  the  poet  used  a  cover,  he  may  have  employed  more 
than  one  ;  he  may  have  used  one  name,  as  long  as  the  real 

DD 


4l8  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

owner  of  it  lived,  or  was  otherwise  available,  and  sought 
another  when  the  necessity  for  a  change  came. 

If  the  concealed  poet  found  there  was  something  com- 
promising in  the  name  of  a  man  who  had  become 
conspicuous,  whose  history  and  career  might  become 
matter  for  enquir}^  or  who  had  gained  evil  notoriety  as  a 
blasphemer  or  a  reprobate,  and  this  appears  to  have  been 
the  case  with  Marlowe,  his  next  choice  would  probably 
be  that  of  a  man  of  less  positive  characteristics,  "slight 
and  unmeritable  ;  "  or  he  might  select  a  name  bearing  a 
colourable  resemblance  to  that  of  a  real  person,  but  not 
exactly  the  same,  and  capable  of  being  twisted  into  sym- 
bolical significance,  and  so  explained  away. 

At  any  rate,  it  is  of  some  advantage  to  our  cause  if  the 
Marlowe  branch  of  it  lifts  it  out  of  the  ring-fence  of 
Stratford-on- Avon,  and  brings  it  to  a  higher  court  of  appeal 
than  that  which  concerns  itself  with  trivial  circumstances 
and  individual  interests.  It  is  no  small  gain  that  the 
question  at  issue  is  thus  connected  with  the  largest  results 
and  the  noblest  utterances  of  Elizabethan  philosophy  and 
literature,  with  the  one  great  man,  who,  more  than  any 
other,  gathers  up  into  himself  the  intellectual,  social,  and 
political  life  of  the  later  sixteenth  and  early  seventeenth 
centuries. 

The  following  Essay  is  reproduced,  with  some  con- 
siderable additions,  from  the  "Journal  of  the  Bacon 
Society,"  Vol.  II.  p.  226.  My  intention  in  this  paper  is 
not  to  cover  the  whole  ground — that  would  require  a  much 
larger  discussion  ;  but  to  present  a  sample,  by  an  analysis 
of  Edward  II.,  of  the  kind  of  arguments  which  have  con- 
vinced many  Baconians  that  Marlowe  must  be  annexed. 
At  present,  then,  I  need  only  claim  that  the  Shakesperean 
origin  of  this  one  play  is  proved  by  the  facts  and  arguments 
brought  forward.  This  may  be  taken  as  a  starting  point 
of  a  larger  enquiry  for  those  who  wish  to  pursue  the  subject. 
My  thesis  is,  Bacon  wrote  Edward  II :  but  it  will  be  evident 
that  many  of  the  facts  used  in  support  of  this  limited  thesis 


EXTRAORDINARY    AFFINITY.  419 

may  be  applied  to  the  whole  Marlowe  group  of  poems  : 
in  some  of  which  much  stronger  Baconian  marks  are  found 
than  this  play  affords. 

The  extraordinary  affinity  between  Marlowe  and  Shake- 
speare has  been  repeatedly  noticed  by  critics  and  historians 
of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  Marlowe  is  always  referred  to 
as  the  precursor  of  Shakespeare,  the  inaugurator  or  inventor 
of  the  art  which  he  perfected.  So  close  is  the  relation 
between  them  that  the  lines  of  continuity  are  unbroken,  or, 
as  Mr.  BuUen  says,  "it  is  hard  to  distinguish  between 
master  and  man."  In  fact,  they  are  represented  as  over- 
lapping and  interpenetrating  in  a  most  anomalous  style.  In 
the  three  plays  of  King  Henry  VI.  we  are  invited  to  look  on 
a  perplexing  mosaic  ;  we  skip  backwards  and  forwards  be- 
tween the  two  writers  in  a  very  uncritical  and  unnatural 
way.  Such  a  co-partnership  certainly  never  existed  in 
nature  or  art.  The  relationship  between  Shakespeare 
and  Marlowe  is  not  likely  to  be  such  as  may  be  symbolised 
by  a  patchwork  quilt  or  a  dissected  map. 

In  the  argument  immediately  under  consideration  I  do 
not  attach  much  importance  to  the  very  few  known  facts 
of  Marlowe's  life.  It  may  be  allowed  that  so  far  as  they 
are  accurately  known,  they  are  but  faintly  or  dubiously 
significant  one  way  or  another.  That  an  educated  Univer- 
sity man  should  have  become  an  actor — that  is,  in  those 
days,  a  vagabond  and  an  outcast — gives  colour  to  the  sus- 
picion that  he  had  somehow  lost  caste,  and  sunk  to  a 
lower  social  level.  If,  in  addition  to  this,  he  was  apt  to  be 
rash,  unguarded,  or  profane  in  speech,  we  can  understand 
how  easily  he  might  be  accused  of  Atheism  and  blasphemy, 
expressed  in  obscene  and  revolting  terms.  Such  a  charge 
could  not  be  constructed  out  of  his  poetry,  even  admitting 
that  the  audacity  of  Faustus  might  lay  him  open  to 
suspicion. 

Marlowe  died  June  ist,  1593,  "  slaine  by  ffrancis 
Archer.''  So  the  old  register  of  St.  Nicholas,  Deptford, 
affirms.     The  date  is  very  important.      Tradition  states 


420         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

that  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  between  Marlowe  and  Francis 
Archer  was  a  nondescript  girl.  The  circumstances  of  his 
death  are  not  accurate!}'  known;  but  it  is  difficult  to  be- 
lieve that  a  man  who  was  stabbed  to  death  in  a  horrid 
quarrel  over  a  girl  in  a  Deptford  public-house  could  have 
been  capable  of  the  "mighty  lines,"  and  the  mightier 
bursts  of  poetic  eloquence,  that  abound  in  all  the  poems 
attributed  to  him.  These  are  facts  which  need  not  be 
pressed  very  far;  but  they  certainly  lend  antecedent  proba- 
bility to  the  supposition  that  he  was  not  the  true  founder 
of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  the  literary  progenitor  of 
Shakespeare. 

What  concerns  us  more  is  the  unvarying  mystery  that 
shrouds  the   origin  and  production   of  every    one  of  the 
Marlowe  plays  and  poems.      In  no  single  case  is  there  a 
simple   and   straightforward    history    attached   to    them. 
There  is  about  them  precisely  the  same  kind  of  anomaly 
as  that  which  surrounds  the  Shakespeare  Folio  of  1623 — 
which  is  really  one  of  the  greatest  paradoxes  of  literature. 
Marlowe's   reputation  is  absolutely   and   entirely  posthu- 
mous.    During  his  lifetime  only  two  of  the  plays  which 
have  been  since  assigned  to  him  were  published,  or  can  be 
proved  to  have  existed;  those  two  are  the  two  parts  of 
Tambnrlainc,    and    they    were    published    anonymously. 
There  is  no  reason  for  believing  them  to  be  his,  which  is 
not  open  to  dispute.   Mr.  Bullen's  belief  rests  almost  exclu- 
sively on  internal  evidence.     He  says  :    **  From  internal 
evidence  there   can  be    no   doubt   that  Tamburlaine  was 
written  wholly  by  Marlowe;  but  on  the  title-pages  of  the 
early  editions  there  is  no  author's  name,  and  we  have  no 
decisive  piece  of  external  evidence  to  fix  the   authorship   on 
Marlowe.'"     This,  of  course,  leaves  the  matter  absolutely 
open,  and  if  internal  evidence  is  to  help  us  to  a  decision, 
then  there  is  room  for  the  Baconian  case,  which  arises  as 
soon  as  the  "previous  question  "  is  moved.      By  internal 
evidence  the  critics  appear  to  mean  qualities  of  style  and 
expression  and  thought,  positive  and  negative — i.e.,  attri- 


UNCLAIMED    DRAMAS.  42I 

butes  both  possessed  and  absent,  both  powers  and 
limitations — belonging  to  a  particular  mind;  and  it  is 
really  difficult  to  say  how  internal  evidence  of  this  kind  is 
to  be  applied  in  the  case  of  a  writer  whose  mental 
characteristics,  except  as  portrayed  in  the  writings  in 
dispute,  are  entirely  unknown.  This  difficulty  is  quietly 
ignored  by  all  the  critics.  The  petitic  principu  is  quietly 
ignored. 

Internal  evidence,  says  Mr.  Charles  Knight — and  his 
argument  is  copious  and,  I  think,  complete — proves  that 
the  Henry  VI.  plays  are  entirely  the  work  of  the  young 
Shakespeare.  Internal  evidence,  say  other  critics,  proves 
that  Henry  VI.  was  partly  or  entirely  Marlowe's.  There- 
fore internal  evidence,  even  under  the  handling  of  orthodox 
Shakespeare  critics,  has  something  to  say  for  the  identity 
of  Shakespeare  and  Marlowe.  Again,  Mr.  Knight  speaks 
of  Tamhurlaine  as  "  a  play  which  Mr.  Collier  holds  to  be 
Marlowe's  work;"  and  again,  "Mr.  Collier  has  proved, 
very  conclusively,  we  think,  that  Marlowe  was  the  author 
of  Taniburlaine.'"  But  Marlowe  is  not  the  only  candidate 
for  this  authorship.  Malone  found  reason  for  thinking 
that  Nash  was  partly  or  entirely  the  author  of  Tainbur- 
laine.  Whether  the  proofs  that  Mr.  Knight  thought 
conclusive  are  so  or  not,  is  evidently  open  to  discussion — 
and  some  of  Mr.  Collier's  "proofs  "  seem  to  have  been  in- 
vented for  the  occasion.  The  point  that  concerns  us  is 
that  such  proof  is  required  at  all,  and  that  Tamhurlaine 
may  be  therefore  regarded  as  a  waif  and  stray  in  search 
of  an  owner. 

It  seems  then  that  the  authorship  of  Tamhurlaine  is  still 
an  open  question.  Its  inclusion  in  "  Marlowe's  Works  " 
goes  for  nothing.  No  collected  edition  of  Marlowe  was 
made  till  Robinson's  was  published  in  1S26,  and  no 
authority  can  be  attached  to  any  collection  made  so  late. 
Mr.  Robinson,  in  the  preface  to  this  earliest  edition  of 
Marlowe,  says  :  "It  may  be  inferred  from  the  prologue  to 
The    Troublesome  Reign   of  John,  King  of  England,  that 


422         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Tamhurlainc  was  written  b\'  the  author  of  that  play,  which 
has  never  been  assigned  to  Marlowe  : — 

You  that  with  friendly  grace  and  smoothed  brow, 
Have  entertained  the  Scythian  Tamhurlainc, 
And  given  applause  unto  an  iniidel, 
Vouchsafe  to  welcome  with  like  courtes}-, 
A  warlike  Christian  and  3'our  countryman. 

Inasmuch  as  the  Troublesome  Reign  is  most  probably 
Bacon's  early  draft  of  King  John,  this  conjecture  is  likely 
to  be  not  very  wide  of  the  mark,  although  the  words 
quoted  do  not  necessarily  bear  this  meaning. 

With   reference    to   Fanstus    the   difficulties    are   much 
greater.     Fanstus  is  not  known  to  have  existed  before  1594, 
and  the  only  allusion  known  of  this  early  date   is  to  be 
found   in   the   much-tampered-with    Diary   of  Henslowe, 
w^hich  supplied  so  many  "  new  facts"  to  Mr.  Collier.     Mr. 
Bullen  says  :   "It  was  entered  in  the  Stationers'  books  on 
January  7th,    1601;  but  the  earliest  extant  edition  is  the 
quarto   of  1604,    which   was   reprinted   with   very    slight 
additions  in  1609.      An  edition  with  very  numerous  addi- 
tions  and    alterations    appeared    in    1616,"    i.e.,    it    was 
enlarged  to  half  as  much  again,   and  a  good   many  of  the 
earlier   scenes   were   re-cast   and  re-written.     These  1616 
additions  are  a  great  puzzle.      They  are  not  to  be  distin- 
guished in  manner  or  value  from  the  rest  of  the  poem,  and 
are  evidently  by  the  same  author.      There  is  no  patchwork 
in  the  revised  form  of  Faustus.      No  one  would  ever  have 
dreamed  of  a  second  author,  if  the  original  authorship  had 
not  been  fastened  upon  a  man  who  died  twenty-three  years 
before  these  additions  were  published,  and  they  alone  are 
sufficient  to  justify   wholesome   scepticism   and   rigorous 
inquiry  into  the  whole  question.     Moreover,   even  in  the 
earliest  edition,  there  is  an  allusion  to  Dr.  Lopez,  whose 
name  did  not  come  into  public  notice  till  1594.     Another 
passage,  referring  to  the  comparative  value  of  French  and 
English  money,  it  is  supposed,  could  not  have  been  written 
before  1597,  and  by   1616  it  had  become  antiquated  and 


FAUSTUS    IMPOSSIBLE    FOR    MARLOWE.  423 

was  omitted.*  The  1616  edition  introduces  "  Bruno,  led 
in  chains."  Bruno's  persecutions  and  ultimate  martyrdom 
did  not  begin  till  many  years  after  Marlowe's  death.  It 
seems  almost  as  if  the  poet,  when  he  revised  his  work  in 
1616,  purposely  inserted  allusions  and  anachronisms  which 
would  necessarily  lead  the  critical  reader,  whenever  he 
might  appear,  to  reconsider  the  question  of  authorship. 
And  this  is  surely  a  more  reasonable  explanation  of  these 
anomalies  than  to  gloss  them  over  or  explain  them  away 
by  all  sorts  of  adventurous  and  question-begging  specu- 
lations. 

Of  course,  critics  are  obliged  to  say  that  the  scenes  in 
which  these  anachronisms  occur  are  interpolations,  but  the 
only  reason  for  so  regarding  them  is  the  awkward  fact  that 
the  supposed  author  died  in  1593.  Mr.  Collier  produced 
an  entry  from  Henslowe's  Diary,  (perhaps  a  forgery  :  who 
knows  which  of  Mr.  Collier's  facts  are  forgeries  and  which 
are  not  ?)  referring  to  four  pounds  paid  to  William  Bird 
and  Samuel  Rowley  for  additions  to  Faiistiis.  But  as  this 
entry  is  dated  1602,  the  additions,  if  they  exist  at  all,  may 
just  as  well  have  appeared  in  the  1604  edition  as  at  any 
other  time,  and  certainly  do  not  account  for  the  large  and 
important  alterations  produced  in  1616,  which  it  is  allowed 
are  such  as  neither  of  these  hack  writers  could  have  made. 
The  entry  is  so  vague  that  no  valuable  inference  can  be 
drawn  from  it.  If  Bird  and  Rowley  really  wrote  any 
additions  to  Faustiis,  they  were  probably  only  the  same  sort 
of  "fond  and  frivolous  gestures  ....  of  some  vain- 
conceited  fondlings  greatly  gaped  at,"  which  had  at  one 
time  disfigured  Tambnylaine,  as  we  are  told  in  the 
"printer's"  address  prefixed  to  that  play,  and  which  were 
judiciously  omitted  in  publication. 

The  Jew  of  Malta  is  mentioned  in  the  Stationers'  books 
in  1594  ;  but  the  earliest  known  edition  is  that  of  1633. 
Edivard  II.  was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  in  July,   1593, 

*See  Ward's  Introduction  to  Fcutsltis,  p.  cxix.,  Note  3. 


424  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

but  not  published,  so  far  as  is  known,  till  1594.  Dido 
was  published  in  1594.  Hero  and  Lcander,  entered  at 
Stationers'  Hall  in  September,  1593,  was  published  in  1598. 
The  original  poem  consisted  of  two  Cantos,  or,  as  they  are 
called,  Sestiads.  Four  more  were  added  the  same  year, 
under  the  name  of  George  Chapman.  This  continuation 
is  also  a  great  puzzle  to  all  the  critics.  It  is  obviously 
written  by  the  same  poet  who  penned  the  first  two  Sestiads, 
although  there  is  a  falling-off  in  poetic  merit — a  heaviness 
and  occasional  obscurity,  which  we  do  not  find  in  the 
earlier  portion.  There  is,  however,  much  the  same  con- 
trast, only  more  marked,  between  the  first  two  acts  of  the 
Jew  of  Malta  and  the  rest  of  the  play.  The  Poem  is  full 
of  Shakespearean  touches,  and  no  one  who  reads  Chapman's 
acknowledged  plays  —  such  as  the  Blind  Beggar  of 
Alexandria,  All  Fools,  &c. — will  find  in  these  plays  the 
least  indication  of  the  poet  who  wrote  any  part  of  Hero 
and  Lcander.  A  passage  in  the  third  Sestiad,  in  which  the 
poet  makes  a  dark  reference  to  "  his  free  soul  who  drank 
to  me  half  this  Musaean  story,"  and  professes  to  "tender 
his  late  desires"  {i.e.,  to  carry  out  the  testamentary  or 
death-bed  wishes  of  a  dissipated  young  man  who  met  with 
a  sudden  and  violent  death),  is  so  evidently  a  piece  of 
masquerade  that  it  rather  confirms  than  confutes  the 
surmise  that  there  is  a  veil  over  the  real  author's  face,  and 
that  this  veil  had  to  be  doubled  when  the  continuation  of 
Hero  and  Leander  was  published.  It  may  be  noted  also 
that  Lieutenant  Cunningham,  commenting  in  his  edition 
of  Marlowe  on  a  passage  in  the  last  Sestiad,  is  daring 
enough  to  lift  the  Chapman  mask  ;  he  remarks,  "  Surely 
this  was  written  by  the  author  oi  Dr.  Faustus.'" 

It  is  evident  from  all  these  facts  that  the  present  enquiry 
is  not  a  rash,  self-willed  heresy  invented  by  the  mischievous 
Baconian  "  troublers  of  the  poor  world's  peace."  The 
doubt  is  not  of  our  creation.  We  find  it  ready  to  our 
hand, — an  unsolved  problem  of  baffled  critics.  And  it 
must  be  observed  that  these  puzzles  are  not  such  as  might 


INTERNAL    EVIDENCE.  425 

be  raised  about  any  other  Elizabethan  poet,  concerning 
whom  traditional  details  are  scanty  or  unsatisfying.  These 
critical  enigmas  cluster  about  the  Shakespearean  group,  to 
which  Marlowe  essentially,  and  by  universal  approval, 
belongs,  and  are  not  to  be  found  elsewhere.  Here  is  chaos. 
Only  the  Baconian  theory  can  restore  order  and  establish 
cosmos. 

My  purpose  is  to  produce,  in  some  detail,  the  very 
strong  internal  evidence  that  connects  Edward  II.  with  the 
Shakespeare  poems.  But  let  it  be  noted  that  there  are 
two  kinds  of  internal  evidence.  Both  have  their  value, 
but  both  are  not  equally  available  for  argument  in  a  matter 
that  is  keenly  and  even  hotly  disputed.  I  do  not  intend 
to  bring  forward  that  kind  of  internal  evidence  which 
arises  when  some  impassioned  critic  reads  out  passages 
from  the  disputed  pieces,  put  into  them  all  the  fervour  and 
passion  which  his  voice  can  command,  and  then  exclaims — 
as  if  no  other  evidence  were  required — "There!  Is  not 
that  Shakespeare  ? "  I  have  nothing  at  present  to  do 
with  the  general  impression  of  individuality  which  a 
capable  reader  feels  in  perusing  the  poems.  This,  which 
is  the  vaguest  of  all  tests — not  capable  indeed  of  being 
formulated  at  all — is  the  one  which  is  most  vehemently 
and  even  defiantly  produced  in  this  discussion,  and  those 
who  cannot  assent  to  conclusions  so  formed,  are  con- 
demned as  of  doubtful  sanity,  or  as  "'  earless  and  unabashed  " 
or  as  "  characteristic-blind." 

In  truth,  nothing  can  be  more  "uncritical"  and  unscien- 
tific than  the  confident  application  of  this  test  to  a  poet's 
earliest  writings.  The  reasons  which  oblige  a  naturalist  to 
see  in  an  unlicked  cub,  or  an  unfledged,  featureless  nestling, 
the  essential  structure  of  the  full-grown  animal,  are  not 
on  the  surface,  immediately  perceptible  to  the  eye  or  the 
ear.  There  are  cases  in  which  the  preconceptions  of  the 
eye  and  ear  must  be  put  aside,  and  laws  of  evolution 
allowed  to  speak. 

And  yet  on  this  evidence  it  is  affirmed  that  every  "sane 


426         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

critic  "  admits  that  Marlowe  was  destitute  of  humour,  and 
incapable  of  writing  the  comic  scenes  in  his  pla3^s.  For  the 
same  reason  we  are  required  to  believe  that  Marlowe  could 
not  develop  a  plot,  and  that  he  was  destitute  of  sympathy 
with  all  the  gentler  phases  of  humanity.  The  "  Ercles 
vein  " — grandiloquent,  bombastic,  fantastic,  extravagant — 
which  is  present  in  Tamburlaine  (although  it  is  almost 
entirely  absent  in  Edward  11. ,  and  is  very  much  restrained 
in  Hero  and  Leandcr),  is  supposed  to  be  Marlowe's  especial 
note.  This  test  is  ridiculously  easy  of  application,  and  on 
that  account,  one  would  think,  rather  suspicious  when 
applied  to  the  early  unripe  works  of  a  great  dramatic 
genius.  This  little  toy-test,  however,  is  employed  to  select 
those  parts  of  Henry  VI.  which  are  to  be  handed  over  to 
him  ;  and  with  this  clue  the  whole  of  Tit.  And.,  and  a 
good  deal  of  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew  is  made  over  to  his 
custody. 

All  these  judgments  appear  to  me  entirely  arbitrary,  and 
somewhat  trifling.  If  we  are  to  determine  what  kind  of 
poet  Marlowe  was,  it  is  safest  to  go  to  the  record  itself, 
instead  of  consulting  one's  inner  consciousness.  So  look- 
ing, we  cannot  fail  to  recognise  at  least  four  different  styles 
in  these  writings;  typified  by  i  The  pomposity  and 
turgescence  of  Ta}nburlaine,  and,  in  less  degree,  of  Dido; 
2  The  comic  scenes  in  Fausius ;  3  The  lyrical  sweetness 
and  exuberant  fancy  of  Hero  and  Leandcr,  and  Come  live 
with  7ne ;  4  The  character-painting  and  dramatic-sobriety 
of  Edivard  //.,  in  which  we  see  the  germ,  or  rather  the 
first  start,  of  the  Shakespeare  series  of  historic  plays.  All 
these  characteristics  are  reproduced,  most  exactly,  in 
Shakespeare.  Not  to  adduce  the  disputed  Tit.  And.,  in 
which  the  extravagance  of  Tamburlaine  and  the  horrors  of 
the  Jew  of  Malta  are  present  in  an  augmented  degree — nor 
the  passages  in  Henry  VI.,  which  are  so  obviously 
Marlowesque,  that  their  origin  is  brought  into  question- 
let  anyone  read  the  interior  play  in  Hamlet,  where  the  poet 
suddenly  adopts  an  entirely  different  style,  and  then  com- 


MARLOWE  S  SHARE  IN   HAMLET.  427 

pare  it  with  some  parts  of  Dido.  The  resemblance  is 
strange,  starthng,  obvious  to  the  most  uncritical  reader, 
while,  to  a  critical  student,  most  urgent  and  clamorous 
questions  of  origin  instantly  present  themselves.  Mr. 
BuUen  notes  that  "  a  few  years  ago  a  theory  was  gravely 
propounded  that  the  player's  speech  in  Hamlet  was 
*  written  originally  by  Shakespeare  to  complete  Marlowe's 
play.'  "  Mr.  Bullen's  comment  is  almost  hysteric  in  its 
revulsion  from  this  bold,  bad  speculation.  "This  Titanic 
absurdity,"  he  adds,  "  gross  as  a  mountain,  open,  palpable, 
was  received  with  much  applause  in  certain  quarter?.'' 
Doubtless  the  suggestion,  in  the  form  stated,  is  unreason- 
able ;  but  it  appears  as  if  Mr.  Bullen's  fierce  denunciation 
is  intended  to  smother  his  own  unwilling  conviction  that 
there  is  something  in  it.  It  is  plain  that  when  Bacon  wrote 
the  player's  speeches  in  Hamlet,  he  drew  upon  what  may 
have  been  his  own  earlier  style ;  perhaps  he  used  some 
rejected  MSS.  which  had  survived  from  the  Marlowe 
period  of  his  career.  At  any  rate  the  "internal  evidence  " 
that  Marlowe  wrote  this  interior  play  in  Hamlet  is  quite  as 
strong  as  that  he  wrote  Tambiirlaine  or  Dido.  And  there 
is  nothing  more  characteristic  of  Marlowe  than  Hamlet's 
ranting  speech  when  he  leaps  into  Ophelia's  grave  (Act  \'., 
scene  i.  297 — 306),  which  many  able  critics,  using  their 
own  arguments  consistantly,  might  hand  over  to  Marlowe. 
These  curious  survivals  of  the  Marlowe  style  shew  that  the 
poet  had  repented  his  youthful  extravagances — for  he  uses 
the  style  only  to  represent  assumed  madness  or  ranting 
stage  situations — but  was  quite  capable  of  repeating  it  if 
the  dramatic  opportunity  presented  itself. 

The  comparison  between  Marlowe's  Dido  and  the 
interior  play  in  Hamlet  is  perfect.  This  has  been  shewn  in 
detail  by  Mr.  H.  Arthur  Kenned}',  in  the  Contemporary 
Review,  October  i88g.  Volume  56,  page  583.  Mr. 
Kennedy's  remarks  are  very  striking,  and  present  many  of 
the  most  forcible  evidences  for  identity  of  authorship. 
Mr.  Kennedy  thinks  that  Shakespeare  reproduced  Marlowe's 


428  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

play  as  well  as  he  could  from  recollection,  and  filled  up  the 
rest  by  perfect  imitation.  Indeed  Mr.  Kennedy's  explana- 
tions almost  require  the  identification  of  Marlowe  and 
Shakespeare. 

The  Marlowe  style  often  reappears  in  Shakespeare,  even 
in  the  most  perfect  of  his  plays.  Thus  Macbeth  is  full  of 
it.  One  of  the  most  obvious  specimens  is  Lady  Macbeth's 
speech  I.  v.  39 — 55,  ending  in  the  very  characteristic  lines — 

Come  thick  night, 
And  pall  thee  in  the  dunnest  smoke  of  hell, 
That  my  keen  knife  see  not  the  wound  it  makes, 
Nor  heaven  peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark, 
To  cry  Hold  !  Hold  ! 

The  prevalence  of  the  Marlowe  style  in  Macbeth  has 
been  scarcely  noticed  by  critics.  There  are  no  less  than 
36  passages  of  this  character,  such  as  I.  v.  39 — 55,  vii.  18 — 
28;  54—59;  II-  ii-  I— 16;  58—63;  iii.  76— 85  ;  117— 124; 
III.  ii.  13 — 26  ;  93 — 107  ;    IV,  iii.  2 — 8  ;    and  some  others. 

One  of  the  most  striking  is  worth  quotation  for  another 
reason  : — 

And  ne'er  shook  hands,  nor  bade  farewell  to  him 
Till  he  unseam'd  him  from  the  nave  to  the  chaps, 
And  tix'd  his  head  upon  the  battlements. 

(See  Much.  I.  ii.  21). 

This  is  a  clear  reflection  of  a  passage  in  Dido, 

Then  from  the  navel  to  the  throat  at  once 
He  ripp'd  old  Priam. 

{Dido.  II.  ii.  255). 

In  Marlowe  proper  this  "  Ercles  vein"  is  not  always 
fully  justified  by  the  interest  of  the  situation,  the  grandeur 
of  the  scenes,  or  the  depth  of  the  tragedy  in  which  it  is 
enshrined.  But  in  Macbeth  the  whole  environment  is  so 
colossal  that  the  strain  and  vehemence  of  the  language  is 
forgiven  or  forgotten. 

The  bloody  business  in  Lear,  when  Gloster's  eyes  are 
torn    out,   shews    the  same  type  of  imagination    that    is 


SHAKESPEARE  NOT  COME  TO  MATURITY.      429 

expressed  in  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta,  and  in  the  quasi 
Marlowe  play  of  Titus  Andronims.     And  the  outburst : — 

Blow  winds,  and  crack  your  cheeks, 

and  the  speeches  associated  with  Lear's  madness  and 
exposure  to  the  storm,  are  all  in  the  Ercles  vein,  brought 
to  maturity,  so  that  it  has  now  become  sublime,  and  the 
reader  quite  overlooks  it,  and  does  not  realize  how  easily 
it  might  become  ridiculous.  There  is  an  audacity  about 
Shakespeare's  diction  which  comes  by  direct  descent  from 
Marlowe,  if  the  separation  is  to  be  maintained. 

It  seems  then  that  the  Marlowe  poems  fill  up  the 
vacuum  left  by  the  Shakespeare  series.  In  them  we  see 
the  poet,  in  his  early  but  Titanic  maturity,  with  the  faults 
of  youth  allied  to  the  exuberance  of  genius  ;  before  his 
dramatic  powers  had  developed  ;  when,  as  Mr.  Bullen  very 
truly  points  out,  the  construction  of  plot  had  not  entered 
into  his  ideal ;  when  his  experience  of  life,  and  that  large 
sympathy  with  all  phases  of  human  existence  which  is  so 
wonderful  in  Shakespeare,  has  not  out-grown  its  early 
limitations  ;  when  the  gift  of  humour  had  not  been  evoked 
by  the  friction  of  experience,  or  by  the  sorrows  and  struggles 
of  his  own  life.  No  considerate  student  can  possibly  affirm 
that  the  genius  which  blossomed  so  magnificently  and  yet 
developed  so  imperfectly  in  these  few  poems,  had  then  dis- 
played all  its  latent  possibilities,  so  that  we  are  entitled  to 
say  exactly  not  only  what  powers  he  had,  but  what  he  had 
not,  and  never  could  have  acquired.  It  was  mad  Ophelia, 
who,  "with  a  happiness  that  often  madness  hits  on,  which 
reason  and  sanity  could  not  so  prosperously  be  delivered 
of,"  exclaimed  "Lord  !  we  know  what  we  are,  but  know 
not  what  we  may  be."  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  more 
madness  in  the  converse  affirmation,  and  that  for  anyone 
to  say  of  Marlowe  that  he  had  no  humour  and  never  could 
develop  it,  is  the  wildest  possible  license  of  self-willed 
and  arbitrary  criticism.  "  No  sane  critic,"  to  adopt  Mr, 
Bullen's  rather  dragooning  and  intolerant  expression,  will 
venture  upon  such  very  disputable  gustation. 


430         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  internal  evidence  which  I  have  to  produce  consists 
of  such  identity  (not  merely  similarity)  of  expression  or 
idea  as  is  distinctly  demonstrative  of  identical  authorship, 
if  it  can  be  shewn  to  be  so  extended,  so  subtle,  so 
spontaneous,  as  to  exclude  the  alternative  explanation  of 
accidental  coincidence,  or  conscious  plagiarism  or  appro- 
priation. That  this  kind  of  evidence  can  be  appreciated 
and  employed  by  Shakespearian  scholars,  when  it  helps  to 
maintain  any  theory  which  they  favour,  is  proved  by  many 
instances.  Thus  Mr.  Gerald  Massey  finds  in  this  sort  of 
evidence  proof  that  Shakespeare  wrote  one  poem  in 
England's  Helicon.  (See  comment  on  Edia.  II.  V.  i.  117 
post.)  Mr.  Charles  Knight  uses  it  most  successfully  in  his 
argument  for  the  Shakespearian  origin  of  the  Henry  VI. 
plays.  And,  to  come  to  within  speaking  distance  of  the  case 
before  us,  Mr.  Fleay  proves  to  his  own  satisfaction  in  this 
vvay  that  Henry  VI.  was,  to  a  great  extent,  written  b}' 
Marlowe,  He  adduces  12  words  which  he  finds  in  Edward 
II.  and  Henry  VI.,  or  Tarn.  Shrew,  but  "  in  no  undoubted 
plays  of  Shakespeare."  These  words  are  Exequies,  shipwreck 
(as  a  noun),  buckler  (as  a  verb),  embroider,  Tully,  serge,  verb, 
foreslow,  magnanimity,  preachment,  Atlas  and  impale.  He 
then  quotes  11  parallel  passages  from  the  plays,  "a  few 
(he  says)  selected  out  of  many"  (but  the  many  are  not 
published  anywhere,  so  far  as  my  searching  extends) ;  and 
he  adds,  —  "These  similarities  are  sufficient,  in  my  mind, 
to  prove  identity  of  authorship  in  a  large  portion  of  these 
plays."  Now  if  this  slenderly  supported  conclusion  of 
Mr.  Fleay's,  so  far  as  identity  of  authorship  is  concerned, 
is  linked  on  to  ^Ir.  Knight's  much  more  reasonable  con- 
clusion, inasmuch  as  it  is  supported  by  a  much  larger 
induction  of  instances,  that  Henry  VI.  was  written  entirely 
by  Shakespeare,  we  arrive  at  the  exact  conclusion  which  it 
is  our  object  to  establish — viz.,  that  Marlowe  and  Shake- 
speare are  two  different  masks  of  one  concealed  poet  ;  and 
as  soon  as  this  point  is  reached  it  will  not  be  difficult  to 
show  who   this   hidden    writer    is.     Before    leaving    Mr. 


A    CONNECTING    LINK.  43I 

Fleay's  argument,  it  may  be  remarked  that  every  play  has 
words  which  occur  in  no  other  play,  and  that  these  dn-a^ 
Aeyo/xci/a  are  quite  as  likely  to  differentiate  dates  as  pens.* 
Like  all  negative  arguments  the  significance  of  this  is  very 
uncertain.  Any  conclusion  so  suggested  must  be  cautiously 
tested  by  other  methods  of  investigation  and  be  always 
treated  as  a  provisional  or  working  hypothesis  until  it  is 
established  by  more  direct  and  positive  proofs.  Such 
proofs  indeed  Mr.  Fleay  produces,  but  it  appears  to  me 
that  the  foundation  is  rather  frail  and  shallow  for  the  large 
negative  conclusion  that  he  builds  upon  it. 

The  play  of  Edward  the  Second  marks  the  transition 
between  the  early  "Ercles  vein"  and  the  genuine  Shake- 
speare drama.  It  is  exactly  the  required  connecting  link 
that  bridges  over  the  vast  chasm  between  these  styles,  and 
warns  us  not  to  attach  too  much  importance  to  similar 
chasms  existing  elsewhere.  Mr.  Knight  thinks  that  there 
is  no  passage  across  this  gulf,  and  that  the  bombastic 
writer  of  Tamburlaine  could  not  have  written  the  early 
drafts  of  Henry  VI.     His  language  is  very  instructive  : — 

The  theory  that  Marlowe  wrote  one  or  both  parts  of  the 
Contention  must  begin  by  assuming  that  his  mind  was  so  thoroughly 
disciplined  at  the  period  when  he  produced  Tamburlaine  and 
Faiistus  and  the  Jew  of  Malta,  that  he  was  able  to  lay  aside  every 
element,  whether  of  thought  or  expression,  b}'  which  those  plays  are 
characterized  ;  adopt  essentially  different  principles  for  the  dramatic 
conduct  of  a  story  ;  copy  his  characters  from  living  and  breathing 
models  of  actual  men  ;  come  down  from  his  pomp  and  extravagance 
of  language,  not  to  reject  poetry,  but  to  ally  poetry  with  familiar  and 
natural  thoughts. 


^te' 


Now  this  impossible  evolution  is  exactly  what  we  find  in 
Edward  II.  This  strange  transformation  has  been  effected, 
and  may  be  described  most  fitly  in  Mr.  Knight's  own 
language.      To    this    Mr.     Dyce    (among    many    others) 


'•^'On  a  rough  computation  I  find  that  there  are  not  less  than  2,000 
words  in  Shakespeare  which  arc  used  only  once. 


432         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

testifies.  He  says  o^  Edward  II.,  —  "Taken  as  a  whole 
it  is  the  most  perfect  of  his  plays  ;  there  is  no  overdoing  of 
character,  no  turgescence  of  language.'''  Mr.  Knight  is 
evidently  conscious  that  Edward  II.  may  be  brought  in 
evidence  against  him,  and  he  avoids  this  difficulty  by 
representing  that  "in  Edward  II.  the  author,  possessing 
the  power  of  adaptation,  to  a  certain  extent,  which  always 
belongs  to  genius,  was  still  pursued  by  his  original  faults  of 
exaggeration  and  inflation  of  language."  He  justifies  this 
allegation  by  a  few  quotations  :  the  passages  he  quotes  are 
the  following :  I.  iv.  170-179;  I.  iv.  311-317  ;  HI.  ii.  128- 
147;  IV.  vi.  86-gi  ;  IV.  vi.  99-103. 

Anyone  referring  to  these  passages  will  at  once  see  that 
they  are  exactly  such  lines  as  the  author  of  Henry  17. 
might  have  written, — exactly  of  the  same  type  as  the  many 
passages  which  are  selected  by  critics  to  prove  that 
Marlowe  wrote  Henry  VI.  Some  of  these  passages  are 
really  quite  Shakespearean.  No  one  will  contend  that 
Edward  II.  contains  no  traces  of  the  old  style  ;  but 
assuredly  the  traces  are  only  just  sufficient  to  link  the  two 
together,  and  to  cancel  any  antecedent  probability  that  the 
poet  of  Tamhurlaine,  when  ripened,  might  develop  into  the 
poet  oi  Henry  IV.  or  Lear. 

In  this  paper  I  have  purposely  limited  my  investigations 
to  the  one  play  of  Edward  II.  It  would  be  easy  to  pursue 
the  same  enquiry  in  reference  to  the  other  Marlowe  plays. 
This  would  be,  however,  a  very  large  affair,  and  would 
take  more  space  than  I  can  at  present  bestow  to  the 
Marlowe  branch  of  the  Baconian  theor3^  However,  before 
entering  upon  an  examination  of  the  parallel  passages  in 
Edward  II.  I  will  content  myself  with  one  specimen  of  the 
striking  way  in  which  Baconian  thought  is  expressed  in 
another  play  of  Marlowe.  It  is  from  the  Massacre  at  Paris. 
Act  I.  scene  viii.  The  Guisians  are  on  the  war  path,  hunt- 
ing out  heretics  and  stabbing  them,  and  they  come  upon 
the  philosopher  Ramus  in  his  study.  Guise  tells  his 
followers  to  stab  him  : — 


THE    CANKER   OF   EPITOMES.  433 

O,  good  my  lord, 
Ramus. — Wherein  hath  Ramus  been  so  offencious  ? 

Guise. — Marry,  sir,  in  having  a  smack  in  all, 

And  yet  didst  never  sound  anything  to  tlie  depth. 

Was  it  not  thou  that  scoff'dst  the  Organon, 

And  said  it  was  a  heap  of  vanities  ? 

He  that  will  be  a  flat  dichomotist, 

And  seen  in  nothing  but  epitomes. 

Is  in  your  judgment  thought  a  learned  man. 

Ramus  defends  himself: — 

O,  good  my  lord,  let  me  but  speak  awhile  ; 

Not  for  my  life  do  I  desire  this  pause. 

But  in  my  latter  hour  to  purge  myself, 

In  that  I  know  the  things  that  I  have  wrote 

Which,  as  I  hear,  one  Sheckius  takes  it  ill, 

Because  my  places,  being  but  three,  contain  all  his. 

I  know  the  Organon  to  be  confused. 

And  I  reduced  it  into  better  form. 

And  this  for  Aristotle  will  I  say. 

That  he  that  despiseth  him  can  never 

Be  good  in  logic  or  philosophy. 

Now,  it  is  not  a  little  remarkable^and  certainly  it  is 
extremely  interesting  to  note, — that  Bacon's  references  to 
Ramus  and  Aristotle,  both  in  commendation  and  in  criti- 
cism or  condemnation,  exactly  correspond  with  the  parti- 
culars specified  in  Marlowe's  play.  Bacon's  own  logic  was 
much  influenced  by  that  of  Ramus ;  he  praises  his 
tripartite  division  of  Method,  but  condemns  his  Dicho- 
tomies and  Epitomes, —  "The  canker  of  Epitomes,"  as  he 
repeatedly  calls  these  abridgements  of  learning.  The  most 
striking  passage  in  condemnation  of  Ramus  is  in  the 
Temporis  Partus  Maximus : — "  Ne  vero,  fili,  cum  banc 
contra  Aristotelem  sententiam  fero,  me  cum  rebelle  ejus 
quodam  neoterico  Petro  Ramo  conspirasse  auguerere. 
Nullum  mihi  commercium  cum  hoc  ignorantise  latibulo, 
pernicio  cissima  literarum  tinea,  compendiorum  patre,  qui 
cum    methodi    ejus   et   compendii  vinclis,  res  torqueat  et 


434         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

premat,  res  qiiidem,  si  qua  fiiit,  clabitur  protinus  et  cxilit  ; 
ipse  vero  aridas  et  desertissimas  nuf^as  strin^it "  :— i.^., 
"  But  while  I  express  this  opinion  against  Aristotle,  do  not 
infer  that  I  am  a  fellow-conspirator  with  that  modern  rebel 
against  him,  Peter  Ramus.  I  have  nothing  in  common  with 
that  skulking  hole  of  ignorance,  that  most  destructive  moth 
of  letters,  that  father  of  Epitomes  who  tortures  and 
presses  things  by  the  shackles  of  his  method  and  of  his 
Epitomes,  while  the  things  themselves  are  entirely  banished 
and  escape;  and  he  himself  grasps  only  the  most  dry  and 
empty  trifles." 

It  should  be  noted  that  in  the  treatise  from  which  this  is 
taken,  Bacon,  .by  way  of  experiment,  indulges  in  a  licence 
of  vituperation  which  does  not  really  or  sufficiently  express 
his  own  opinion  of  the  philosopher  whom  he  assails.  But 
the  criticism  is  essentially  the  same  as  that  expressed  in 
his  calmer  moods.  Bacon  dislikes  that  species  of  logic 
which  "  distributes  everything  into  two  members."  "  For 
while  these  men  press  matters  by  the  law  of  their  method, 
and  when  a  thing  does  not  aptly  fall  into  those  dichotomies, 
either  pass  it  b)%  or  force  it  out  of  its  natural  shape,  the 
effect  of  their  proceeding  is  this — the  kernels  and  grains  of 
the  sciences  leap  out,  and  they  are  left  with  nothing  in 
their  grasp  but  the  dry  and  barren  husks.  And  therefore 
this  kind  of  method  produces  empty  abridgments,  and 
destroys  the  solid  substance  of  knowledge."  It  is  clear 
that  in  this  passage  Bacon  is  referring  to  the  dichotomies 
of  Ramus,  (see  De  Aug.,  VI.  ii.),  as  Mr.  Ellis  points 
out  in  his  note  to  the  Latin  original.     (Works  III.  663). 

His  scorn  of  epitomes  is  vigorously  expressed  in  other 
passages  :  Ex.  gr.  —  "  As  for  the  corruptions  and  moths  of 
history,  which  are  Epitomes,  the  use  of  them  deservcth  to 
be  banished,  as  all  men  of  sound  judgment  have  confessed  ; 
as  those  that  have  fretted  and  corroded  the  sound  bodies 
of  many  excellent  histories,  and  wrought  them  into  base 
and  unprofitable  dregs."  (See  **  Adv."  II.  4.  Works  III. 
334).     (See  also  the  Essay  of  "  Studies.") 


EARLY    EDITIONS    OF   EDWARD    II.  435 

I  do  not  see  how  Bacon's  hand  can  be  ignored  in  the 
remarkable  passage  from  the  "  Massacre  at  Paris,"  in  which 
these  sentiments  are  so  accurately  reproduced. 

Three  early  quarto  editions  of  Edward  II.  are  known  : 
1598,  1612,  and  1622.  One  copy  of  an  edition  dated  1594 
has  been  more  recently  discovered,  so  that  four  early 
quartos  may  be  assumed.  There  is  no  very  essential 
difference  between  them,*  but  anyone  comparing  them 
will  find  a  few  minute  changes  of  precisely  such  a  character 
as  the  author  himself  would  make — and  for  the  most  part, 
such  as  would  have  occurred  to  no  other  reviser.  The 
following  specimens  may  suffice  :  — 

1.  And  prodigal  gifts  bestowed  on  Gaveston, 
Have  drawn  thy  treasure  dry.     1598. 

Have  drawn  thy  treasitry  dry.     1612,     II.  ii.  154. 

2.  They  bark'd  apace  a  month  ago.     1598. 

They  bark'd  apace  not  long  ago.     1612.     IV.  iii.  12. 

*  Mr.  Tancock  describes  the  1598  edition  as  "a  somewhat  care- 
lessly printed  quarto  probably  from  a  prompter's  copy."  I  cannot 
account  for  this  estimate  of  the  1598  edition.  From  personal 
inspection  of  the  three  early  quartos,  I  am  persuaded  that  it  was 
very  carefully  printed,  and  is  just  as  authentic  as  the  subsequent 
editions.  The  fashion  of  gratuitously  conjuring  up  prompters'  copies, 
acting  MSS.,  playhouse  versions,  sliorthand  reports,  reproductions 
from  memory,  &c.,  has  muddled  all  modern  critical  accounts  of  these 
early  plays,  and  made  natural  causes  invisible.  In  this  case  anyone 
can  ascertain  liow  far  the  1598  edition  deserves  Mr.  Tancock's  de- 
preciation, by  consulting  Mr.  Flea3''s  edition,  wliich  points  out  in 
detail  all  the  changes  made  in  1612  and  1622.  That  tlicy  are  very 
insignilicaut,  the  few  specimens  given  in  the  text  will  sufhcienlly 
indicate.  There  are  about  twenty-one  such  alterations  in  the  whole 
play,  and  not  one  of  them  is  of  a  nature  to  reflect  injuriously  on  the 
hrst  edition.  In  fact,  it  was  with  some  hesitation  that  I  produced 
these  at  all  (before  observing  Mr.  Tancock's  note),  fearing  k^t  I 
miglit  incur  censure  for  using  sliglit  or  strained  arguments. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  this  judgment  is  withdrawn  in  Mr.  Tancock's 
second  edition.  I  need  not,  however,  cancel  this  criticism  ;  for  ]\Ir. 
Tancock's  case  is  typical. 


436         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT, 

3.  Cojiie,  Leister,  then,  in  Isabella's  name  !     1598. 
Com^s  Leister ?  &c.     1612.     IV.  vi.  64. 

4.  In  which  extreme  my  mind  here  murthered  is.    1598. 
In  which  extremes,  &c.     161-'.     Y.  i.  55. 

5.  To  strangle  with  a  lawn  thrust  ihruu^h  the  throat.   1598. 
Thrust  down  the  throat.     1612.     IV.  iv.  32. 

6.  Let  me  not  die  ;  yet  stay,  oh,  stay  awhile.   1598.    1612. 
Let  me  not  die  yet;  stay,  &c.     1622.     V.  v.  98. 

By  these  simple  changes,  even  in  punctuation,  the  whole 
colour  of  a  passage  is  often  altered,  and  almost  always 
these  small  corrections  tend  to  clear  and  modernize  the 
construction. 

I  will  now  refer  to  some  of  the  resemblances  between 
Edward  U.  and  passages  in  Shakespeare  and  Bacon.  The 
references  to  acts,  scenes,  and  lines  are  made  to  the  very 
excellent  Clarendon  edition,  edited  by  Mr.  Tancock.  The 
numbers  in  Mr.  Fleay's  and  Mr.  Bullen's  editions  are  in 
most  cases  the  same.  Certainly  the  variation  of  a  few 
lines  need  not  create  any  difficulty  in  verifying  the  quota- 
tions. 

[Note. — Some  of  these  resemblances  have  been  more  or  less  com- 
pletely pointed  out,  by  Dyce,  Fleay,  Tancock,  Verity,  and  others. 
The  passages  are  indicated  by  the  initials  (D.  F.  T.  V.)  of  these  four. 
Mrs.  Pott  has  supplied  me  with  some  which  I  had  not  observed,  and 
with  a  good  many  that  I  had.  It  will  be  seen  that  33  out 
of  the  103  have  been  anticipated  ;  but  in  many  of  these  cases  the 
comparison  stops  short  at  the  Henry  VI.  plays  :  the  very  important 
comparisons  that  run  througli  all  the  Shakespearean  plays  have  been 
scarcely  touched  upon.  Mr.  Tancock  has  pointed  out  more  of  tliese 
than  any  previous  writer,  but  even  he  has  given  only  a  few  out  of 
the  large  store  that  are  to  be  found.] 

1.       Ah  !  words  that  make  me  surfeit  with  delight. 

(I-i-3). 
Henry  .  .  .  smfciiing  in  joys  of  love. 

(2  Hen.  17.  I.  i.  251). 

Sweets,  delights,  and  surfeits  seem  much  associated  in  the 
Poet's  mind  :  thus — 


PARALLELS.  437 

Sweets  grown  common  use  their  dear  delights. 

(Son.  102). 

You  speak  like  one  besotted  on  your  sweet  deliglits. 

{Tro.  Cr.  II.  ii.  142). 

A  surfeit  of  the  sweetest  things, 

The  deepest  loathing  to  the  stomach  brings. 

{M.  N.  D.  II.  ii.  137). 

For  special  significance  of  the  epithet  sweet,  and  its 
equivalents  and  its  reflections  in  Bacon — see  Chap.  XII., 
Section  15,  p.  243. 

2.  {Enter  tliree  poor  men). 

Gaveston.— But  how  now  !    What  are  these  ? 
Poor  Men.— Such  as  desire  your  worship's  service. 

Gat'.— What  can'st  thou  do  ? 
First  P.  M.—l  can  ride. 

Gar.— But  I  have  no  horse.    What  art  thou  ? 
Second  P.  M.—A  traveller. 

Gar.— Let  me  see  :  thou  would'st  do  well 

To  wait  at  my  trencher,  and  tell  me  lies  at 

dinner-time. 
And,  as  I  like  your  discoursing',  I'll  have  you. 

(I.  i.  24). 

Mr.  Tancock  notes,  "Compare  Lear  I.  iv.  ic-47,"  where 
it  is  curiously  expanded  ;  the  identity  is  very  striking,  (T. ) 
The  Lear  passage  is  clearly  borrowed — but  the  original  is 
improved.     Cf.  also,— 

A  good  traveller  is  something  at  the  latter  end  of  a  dinner. 

{Airs  W.  II.  V.  :,o). 

Now  your  traveller, 

He  and  his  tooth-pick  at  my  worship's  mess. 

And  when  my  knightly  stomach  is  sufficed, 

Why  then  I  suck  my  teeth  and  catechize 

My  picked  man  of  countries. 

{folni  I.  i.  189). 

3.       I'll  flatter  these,  and  make  them  live  in  hope. 

(I.  i.  43). 


438         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Cozening  hope  !     He  is  a  flatterer. 

{Ricli.  II.  II.  ii.  69). 

(See  also  2  He7t.  IV.  I.  iii.  27-62).  Evidently  there  is  a 
cozening  quality  in  Gaveston's  flattery.  The  flattery  of 
hope  is  a  frequent  theme  in  Bacon's  prose.  (See  "  Medit. 
Sac."  Op.  VII.  247;  "Apophthegms,"  No.  36;  "Hist. 
Life  and  D."  V.  279,  2S0;  "Hist.  Symp.  and  Antip."  V. 
203;  Essay  of  "Truth;  "of"  Seditions,"  &c.   Cf.  Chap.  VII. 

4.  I  must  have  wanton  poets,  pleasant  wits, 
Musicians,  that  with  touching  of  a  string, 
May  draw  the  pliant  king  which  way  I  please  ; 
.  .  .  I'll  have  Italian  mosques  hy  night,  &c. 

(I-  i-  52-73)- 

His  ear  ...  is  stopped  with  other  flattering  sounds  : 
.  .  .  Lascivious  metres,  to  whose  venom  sound, 
The  open  ear  of  3'Outh  doth  always  listen. 
Report  of  fashions  in  proud  Italy. 

(Ricii.  II.  II.  i.  17-23.     T.) 

Mr.  Tancock  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  charac- 
terization and  dramatic  situation  are  precisely  the  same  in 
these  two  passages.     Another  case  of  borrowing. 

5.  Dance  the  antic  hay. 

(I.  i.6i). 

Let  them  dance  the  hay. 

(L.  /,.  /..  V.  i.  161.     T.) 

6.  With  hair  that  gilds  the  water  as  it  glides, 

(1. 1.  63). 

Spread  o'er  the  silver  waves  thy  golden  hair. 

{Com.  Err.  III.  ii.  48). 

Golden  also  is  a  very  Shakespearean  epithet.  (See 
No.  29). 

7.  This  sword  of  mine  that  should  offend  your  foes, 
Shall  sleep  within  the  scahbard  at  thy  need  ; 
And  underneath  thy  hanner  march  who  will, 
For  Mortimer  will  hang  his  armour  up. 

Gaveston — Morte  dieu.  (I.  i.  86). 


PARALLELS.  439 

Steel  !  it  thou  tuni  the  edge  .  .  .  'ere  thou  sleep  in  thy  sheath,  &c. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  x  6i). 

Bacon  often  speaks  of  obsolete  laws  as  sleeping  ("  Aphor- 
isms of  the  Law,"  58) ;  so  does  Shakespeare.  (See  M.  M. 
II.  ii.  go  ;  Hen.  V.  III.  vi.  127).  In  the  following  passage 
a  sleeping  function  and  armour  hanging  by  the  wall  are 
connected,  as  in  Edw.  II.,  while  the  phraseology  is 
varied  : — 

This  new  Governor 

Awakes  me  all  the  enrolled  penalties, 

Whieli  have,  like  unscoured  armour,  hung  by  tiie  wall  .  .  . 

Now  puts  the  drowsy  and  neglected  act 

Freshly  on  me. 

{Mcas.  Mcas.  I.  ii.  169). 

Our  bruised  arms  hung  up  for  monuments. 

{Riiii.  III.  I.  i.  6). 

To  have  done  is  to  hang 

Ouite  out  of  fashion,  like  a  rusty  mail 

In  monumental  mockery. 

{Tro.  Cr.  III.  iii.  151). 

The  phrase  Morte  dieu  occurs  in  2  Hen.  VI.  I.  i.  123. 

8.  This  sword  shall  plane  the  furrows  of  thy  brows. 

(I.  i.  94). 

Smooth  the  frowns  of  war  with  peaceful  looks. 

{2  Hen.  17.  II.  vi.  32). 

Grim-visagcd  war  hath  sniooth'd  Iiis  wrinkled  front. 

[Ricli.  III.  I.  i.  9). 

9.  And  hew  these  knees  that  now  are  grown  so  stiff. 

(I.  i.  95). 

Stiff,  unbowed  knees  .  .  .  disdaining  duty. 

(2  Hen.  17.  III.  i.  16. 

10.  Let  these  their  heads 

Preach  upon  poles,  for  trespass  of  their  tongues. 

^I.  i.  117). 

Tlien  yield  thee,  coward, 
And  live  to  be  the  show  and  gaze  o'  the  time. 
We'll  have  thee  as  our  rarer  monsters  are, 


440         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Painted  upon  a  pole,  and  under  writ 
"  Here  may  you  see  the  tyrant." 

(Macb.  V.  viii.  23). 

11.  Not  Hylas  was  more  mourned  of  Hercules. 

(I.  i.  144). 

(See  Promus,  785  ;  Hylam  inclamas.  Cf.  No.  33.  For 
the  Hylas  legend,  see  Bacon's  Syl.  Syl.,  155). 

12.  King E(fw.— Who's  there?     Convey  this  priest  to  the 

Tower. 

Bishop.— Tme,  true.  (1.  i.  200). 

Baling. — Go,  some  of  you,  convey  him  to  the  Tower. 
King  Rich. — O,  good  ! — Convey  ?     Conveyors  are  you  all. 

{Rich.  II.  IV.  i.  316). 

Mr.  Tancock  uses  this  passage  to  explain  the  "True! 
true  !  "  in  Edw.  II.  Surely  enigma  and  solution  have  the 
same  origin. 

13.  How  now  !    "Why  droops  the  Earl  ? 

(I.  ii.  9  ;  also  IV.  vi.  60). 

Why  droops  my  Lord  like  over  ripcn'd  corn  ? 

(2  Hen.  VI.  I.  ii.  i). 

14.  (a)  Swollen  with  {h)  venom  of  (0  ambitious  (</)  pride. 

(I.ii.  3.). 

a.d.  My  high-blown  pride,  at  length  broke  under  me. 

{Hen.  VIII.  III.  ii.  361). 

a.d.  Swell  in  their  pride. 

{Liicrece  432). 

{a,  c)  Cesar's  ambition  wliicii  swelled  so  much. 

{Cynib.  III.  i.  49). 

(a,  c)  Blown  ambition. 

{Lear  IV.  iv.  27). 

{a,  c)  I  have  seen  th'  ambitious  ocean  swell. 

{Jul.  Cfs.  I.  iii.  6). 

(a,  b)  By  the  gods — 

You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen, 

Though  it  do  split  you. 

(Jul.  Cd's.  IV.  iii.  46). 


PARALLELS.  44I 

Here  we  see  that  swelling,  to  bursting,  is  supposed  to 
be  produced  by  the  anger  of  which  Brutus  accuses 
Cassius. 

{a,  b)  Swell  bobom  with  thy  fraaght,  for  'tis  of  aspics'  tongues. 

(0th.  III.  iii.  453). 

(See  No.  46.  See  also  Chap.  XII.  sec.  11,  p.  238,  for  the 
Baconian  scientific  ideas  which  are  reflected  in  these 
passages). 

15.  Can  kingly  lions  fawn  on  creeping  ants  ? 

(I.  iv.  15). 

When  the  lion  fawns  upon  the  lamb. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  IV.  viii.  49). 

As  the  grim  lion  fawneth  o'er  his  prey. 

{Ltici'ccc  421). 

(See  also  Chap.  XII.,  sec.  3,  p.  22g). 

16.  IgnoMe  vassal !  that  like  Phaethon, 

Aspir'st  unto  the  guidance  of  the  sun. 

(I.  iv.  16). 

Phaethon  !  .  .  Wilt  thou  aspire  to  guide  the  heavenl}'  car  ? 

(T.  G.  V.  III.  i.  153). 

Bacon  and  Shakespeare  often  refer  to  the  fable  of 
Phaethon,  and  always  in  the  same  way.  (See  "  Letter  to 
Essex,"  II.  igi  ;   "  Wisd.  Anc,"  Chap.  XXVII.,  &c.) 

17.  Anger  and  wrathful  fury  stops  my  speech. 

(I.  iv.  42). 
Also, 

Your  pride  hath  made  me  mute. 

(I.  i.  107). 

Mad  ire  and  wratliful  fury  makes  me  weep. 

(i  Hai.  VI.  IV.  iii.  28). 

Speak  Winchester  ;  for  boiling  clioler  chokes 
The  hollow  passage  of  my  prison'd  voice. 

(Ih.  V.  iv.  120). 

O,  why  should  wrath  be  mute,  and  fury  dumb  ? 

(Til.  A.  V   iii.  184). 


442         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

18.  Are  you  content  to  banish  him  the  realm  ? 

(I.  iv.  84). 

Are  }'oii  contented  to  resign  the  crown  ? 

(Ridi.  II.  IV.  i.  200  T.) 

(See  also  T.  G.  V.  IV.  i.  61). 

19.  I'll  enforce 

The  Papal  towers  to  kiss  the  lowly  ground. 

(I.  iv.  loi), 

Let  heaven  kiss  earth. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  I.  i.  153). 

The  stars,  I  see,  will  kiss  the  valleys. 

[Cymb.  V.  1.  206). 
(See  No.  24). 

20.  Is  all  my  hope  turned  to  this  hell  of  grief? 

(I.  iv.  116). 

O,  at  that  name, 

I  feel  a  hell  of  grief. 

(V.  v.  87). 

With  sucli  a  hell  of  pain  and  world  of  charge. 

(7>.Cy.  IV.  i.57). 

You've  passed  a  hell  of  time. 

(Son.  120). 

And  that  deep  torture  may  he  call'd  a  hell, 
Where  more  is  felt  than  one  hath  power  to  tell. 

(Liicrac  1287). 

21.  Thou  from  this  land,  I  from  myself  am  banished. 

(I.  iv.  118). 

To  die  is  to  be  banish'd  from  mvself, 
And  Sylvia  is  myself. 

[T.  G.  V.  III.  i.  170). 

Banished  am  I,  if  but  from  thee. 

(2  Hen.   VI.  III.  ii.  351). 

22.  That  charming  Circe,  walking  on  the  waves, 

Had  changed  my  shape. 

(I.  iv.  172). 

I  tiiink  you  all  liave  drunk  of  Circe's  cup. 

[Com.  Err.  V.  i.  270). 


PARALLELS.  443 

As  if  with  Circe  she  woukl  cliangc  my  shape. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  V.  iii.  35). 

23.  Ungentle  Queen  !    I  say  no  more. 

(I.  iv.  147). 

Ungentle  Queen,  to  call  him  gentle  Suffolk  ! 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  290). 

24.  'Twill  make  him  vail  the  top-flag  of  his  pride. 

(I.  iv.  276). 

Vail'd  is  your  pride. 

(III.  iii.  38). 

France  must  vail  her  lofty  plumed  crest. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  V.  iii.  25). 

Vailing  her  high  top  lower  than  her  ribs, 
To  kiss  her  burial. 

{Mer.  Ven.  I.  i.  28). 

Thus  vail  your  stomachs  [i.e.  pride). 

[Tam.SJi.  V.  ii.  176  ;  2  Hen.  IV.  I.  i.  129). 

25.  The  people  .  .  .  lean  to  the  king. 

(I.  iv.  283). 

Northumberland  did  lean  to  him. 

(i  Hen.  IV.  IV.  iii.  67). 

Afterwards,  instead  of  lean  to,  we  have  incline  to.  (See, 
for  instance,  Cor.  II.  iii.  42  ;  Leaf  III.  iii.  14  ;  Bacon's 
Adv.  L.  II.  X.  8). 

26.  Having  brought  the  Earl  of  Cornwall  on  his  way. 

(I.  iv.  299). 
Bear  thee  on  thy  way. 

(I.  iv.  140;  V.  ii.  155). 

How  far  brought  you  high  Hereford  on  his  way  ? 

{Ricli.  II.  I.  iv.  2  ;   I.  iii.  304). 

(See  Mens.  M.  I.  i.  62  ;  L.  L.  L.  V.  ii.  883  ;  M.  Ado  III. 
ii.  3)- 

He  would  not  suffer  me  to  bring  him  to  the  haven. 

{Cynih.  I.  i.  170). 

Mr.  Tancock  refers  to  RicJi.  II.  I.  iv.  2,  ;uul  Acts  XXI.  5. 


444  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  phrase  seems  to  have  been  in  very  current  use,  in 
the  sense  of  accompany,  conduct.  Other  passages  might 
be  quoted. 

27.  Hark  !  how  he  harps  upon  his  minion. 

(I.  iv.  310). 

Harp  not  011  tluit  string. 

{Rich.  III.  IV.  iv.  364). 

(See  also  Meas.  M.,  Cor.,  Macb.,  Ant.  CI.,  Ham.) 

This  string  you  cannot  .  .  .  harp  upon  too  much. 

(Bacon's  "Life"  II.  42). 

28.  My  heart  is  as  an  anvil  unto  sorrow, 

Which  heats  upon  it  like  the  Cyclops'  hammer. 

(I.  iv.  311). 

And  never  did  the  Cyclops'  hammer  fall,  &c. 

{Ham.  II.  ii.  511). 

Between  the  hammer  and  the  anvil. 

{Proiiiiis  741). 

Though  it  be  my  fortune  to  be  the  anvil  whereupon  those 
good  effects  are  beaten  and  wrought,  I  take  no  small  com- 
fort.    Letter,  Ap.  22,  1621 ;  '-Life"  VII.  242. 

29.  I'll  hang  a  golden  tongue  about  thy  neck. 

(I.  iv.  327). 

Helen's  golden  tongue. 

{'Jr.  Cr.  I.  ii.  1 14). 

Golden  is  a  favourite  epithet  with  Shakespeare.  He  has 
golden  opinions  ;  golden  time ;  golden  prime ;  golden 
sleep  (frequently) ;  golden  service  ;  golden  lads  and  girls  ; 
a  golden  mind  stoops  not  to  shows  of  dross  ;  golden  words. 
See  Promus  1207. 

30.  And  as  gross  vapours  perish  by  the  sun 
Even  so  let  hatred  with  thy  Sovereign's  smile. 

(I.  iv.  340). 

The  very  beanie  will  drv  those  vapours  up. 

(3  Hen.  17.  V.  iii.  12). 


PARALLELS.  445 

See  also  i  Hen.  IV.,  I.  ii.  221—227.      L.  L.  L.  IV.  iii. 
68—70. 

31.  These  silver  hairs  will  more  adorn  my  court 
Than  gaudy  silks  or  rich  embroideries. 

(I-  iv.  345). 
His  silver  hairs 
Will  purchase  us  a  good  opinion. 

{^iil.  Civs.  II.  i.  144). 

Silver  hair  also  in  2  Hen.  VI.  and  T.  A.     (T. ) 

32.  Fly  !  as  fast  as  (a)  Iris  or  (b)  Jove's  Mercury. 

(I.  iv.  369). 

a.     Wheresoe'er  thou  art  in  this  world's  globe, 
I'll  have  an  Iris  that  shall  find  thee  out. 

(2  Hoi.  VI.  III.  iii.  406). 

/).     Be  Mercury ;  set  feathers  to  thy  heels, 

And  fly  like  thought  from  them  to  me  again. 

{John  IV.  ii.  174). 

Fleet-winged  duty  with  thought's  feathers  flies. 

(Liicrcce  12 16). 

True  hope  is  swift  and  flies  with  swallow's  wings. 

{Rnli.  III.  V.  ii.  23). 

Bacon  writes  to  Mr.  T.  Phillips,  September  15,  1592, — 
"Your  Mercury  is  returned."     ("  Life"  I.  118). 

Mr.  Fleay,  wishing  to  show  that  this  passage  in  Edw.  II. 
is  only  paralleled  in  what  he  considers  doubtful  plays, 
says,  in  his  glossary :  "Iris,  messenger  of  the  gods:  so  in 
2  Hen.  VI.  III.  iii.  407,  Iris  is  used  for  a  messenger.  In 
Shakespeare's  undoubted  plays.  Iris  always  means  the 
rainbow.  See  Temp.  IV.  i.  160;  All's  W.  I.  iii.  158; 
Troilus  I.  iii.  380." 

This  is  strangely  inaccurate.  In  the  Tempest,  Ceres 
addresses  Iris  thus, — 

Hail  !  many  coloured  messenger  that  ne'er 
Dost  disobey  the  wife  of  Jupiter. 

and  Iris  speaks  in  the  same  terms  of  herself, — 


446         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    RACONIAN    LIGHT. 

The  Queen  of  the  sky, 
Whose  watery  aich  and  incssciiilcr  am  I. 

The  passac^e  in  Tr.  Cr.  referred  to  by  Mr.  Fleay  is, — 

That  will  .  .  .  make  him  fall 

His  crest  that  proiuk-r  than  blue  Iris  bends. 

(I.  iii.  380). 

and  here  Iris  does  not  mean  either  a  messenger  or  the 
rainbow,  but  the  purple  flower. 

In  the  Te}iipest  the  name  Iris  only  occurs  in  the  stage 
directions,  not  in  the  text.  But  it  occurs  thus:  "Juno 
and  Ceres  whisper  and  send  Iris  on  employment."  And  in 
the  AlTs  ]V.  passage,  Iris  is  called,  "This  distempered 
messenger  of  wet,"  showing  that  the  poet,  in  his  wonted 
way,  saw  double  when  looking  at  Iris — saw  her  as  both 
rainbow  and  messenger.  The  Marlowe  allusion  is  certainly 
reproduced  in  these  passages,  as  Mr.  Fleay,  if  he  had  been 
free  from  bias,  would  surely  have  observed  and  acknow- 
ledged, and  not  ambiguously  denied. 

33.       The  mightiest  kings  have  had  their  minions. 

Great  Alexander  lov'd  Hephaestion. 

The  conquering  Hercules  for  Hylas  wept, 

And  for  Patroclus  stern  Achilles  droop'd. 

And  not  kings  only,  but  the  wisest  men. 

The  Roman  Tully  loved  Octavius, 

Grave  Socrates,  wild  Alcihiades, 

(I.  iv.  390). 

This  remarkably  Baconian  and  Shakespearean  passage 
invites  much  comment,  for  which  I  must  refer  to 
Chapter  V.  on  "Companionship  in  Calamity." 

The  passage  in  Marlowe  is  accurately  reflected  in  Bacon's 
Essay  of  "  Friendship."  He  speaks  of  the  habit  of  princes 
to  "  raise  some  persons  to  be  as  it  were  companions  and 
almost  equals  of  themselves.  .  .  ,  And  we  see  plainly 
that  this  hath  been  done  not  by  weak  and  passionate 
princes  only,  but  by  the  wisest  and  most  politic  that  ever 
reigned."  Bacon  does  not  give  instances ;  he  knew  that 
he  had  already  given  them  in  Marlowe's  Edw.  II. 


PARALLELS.  447 

34.  He  wears  a  lord's  revenue  on  his  Iback. 

(I.  iv.  406). 

She  bears  a  duke's  revenues  on  her  back 

(2  Hilt.  VI.  I.iii.  8:;.     D.  F.  V.) 

Bearing  their  birth  rights  proudly  on  their  backs. 

{John  II.  i.  70). 

As  a  later  development  of  the  same,  we  have, — 

The  city  woman  bears 
The  cost  of  princes  on  unworthy  shoulders. 

{As  You  Like  It  II.  vii.  75). 

O,  many 
Have  broke  their  backs  with  laying  manors  on  "cm 
For  this  great  journey. 

{Hcii.  VIII.  I.  i.  63). 

There  is  a  curious  parallel  to  this  in  Burton's  "Anatomy 
of  Melancholy,"  III.  ii.  2,  3.  '"Tis  an  ordinary  thin^^  to 
put  a  thousand  oaks  and  a  hundred  oxen  into  a  suit  of 
apparel  ;  to  wear  a  whole  manor  on  his  back." 

35.  Midas-like,  he  jets  it  in  the  Court. 

(I.  iv.  407). 

Thou  gaudy  gold, 
Hard  food  for  Midas,  I  will  none  of  thee. 

{Mcr.  IV//.  III.  ii.  roi). 

How  he  jets  it  under  his  advanced  plumes. 

('Ac.  iV.  II.  V.  38.     T.). 

36.  As  if  that  Proteus,  god  of  shapes,  appeared. 

[L  iv.  410). 

I  can  .  .  .  change  shapes  with  Proteus. 

(3  Hen.  IV.  III.  ii.  192). 

37.  And  would  have  once  preferr'd  me  to  the  King'. 

(ll.i.  14). 

Because  my  book  preferred  me  to  the  King. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  vii.  77). 

38.  Cast  the  scholar  off. 

{ILL  31). 


448         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Cast  thy  humble  slough. 

(r«'.  iV.  II.  V.  181). 

Her  vestal  livery  is  but  sick  and  green, 
And  none  but  fools  do  wear  it ;  cast  it  off. 

{Rom.  -Jul.  II.  ii.  9). 

All  these  passages  reflect  Bacon's  Philosophy  of 
Behaviour  as  a  garment.     (See  Chap.  VIII.) 

39.  Making  low  legs  to  a  nobleman. 

(Il.i.  38). 

You  make  a  leg,  and  Bolingbroke  says,  Ay. 

(i?/W/. //.  III.  iii.  175.     T.) 

He  that  cannot  make  a  leg  .  .  were  not  for  the  Court. 

(  AJrs  IV.  II.  ii.  10). 

Let  them  court'sy  with  their  left  legs. 

{Taiii.  Sli.  IV.  i.  95). 

Well,  here  is  mv  leg. 

(i  Hill.  IV.  U.  iv.  427). 

I  doubt  whether  their  legs  be  worth  the  sums  that  are  given  for 
them  {i.e.  their  obeisance).  {Timoii  I.  ii.  238). 

40.  A  lofty  cedar-tree,  fair  flourishing, 

On  whose  top  "branches  kingly  eagles  perch. 

(II.  ii.  16). 

Thus  yields  the  cedar  to  the  axe's  edge. 
Whose  arms  gave  shelter  to  the  princely  eagle. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  ii.  11.     D.  F'.  T.) 

I  was  horn  so  higli 
Our  aiery  buildeth  in  the  cedar's  top. 

{Ricli.  III.  I.  iii.  263). 

Our  princely  eagle.  {Cymb.  V.  v.  473).  ■ 

(See  3  Hen.  VI.  II.  i.  91). 

Kingly  and  princely  are  evidently  variations  of  the  same 
epithet  :  both  are  frequent  in  the  early  Histories.  (See 
also  I  Tamhurlaine  I.  ii.  52). 

41.  The  shepherd,  nipt  with  biting  winter's  rage, 
Frolics  not  more  to  see  the  painted  spring 
Than  I  do  to  behold  your  Majesty.  (II.  ii.  61). 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  449 

Winter's  rage  is  implied  in, — 

A.painst  the  stormy  gusts  of  winter's  day, 
And  l:)arren  rage  of  death's  eternal  cold. 

(Sonnet  13). 

Welcome  hither  as  is  the  spring  to  the  earth. 

{W.  TaleV.i.  151). 

And  Lady-smocks,  all  silver  white, 
Do  paint  the  meadows  with  delight. 

(L.  L.  L.  V.  ii.  905). 

Painted  is  a  favourite  epithet  in  Shakespeare.  It  is,  as 
Mr.  Tancock  points  out,  an  adaptation  of  Latin 
phraseology,^/'/ci'(i;  prata,  &c.,  and  is  one  of  the  many 
indications  that  "Shakespeare"  had  been  accustomed  to 
write  and  think  in  Latin.  We  find  the  epithet  painted 
appHed  to  flourish,  rhetoric,  pomp,  devil,  clay,  queen, 
peace,  imagery,  gloss,  hope,  word,  butterflies,  &c. 

42.  Dear  shall  you  hoth  ahide  this  riotous  deed. 

(II.  ii.  88). 

Traitorous  Montague,  thou  and  thy  brother 
Shall  derelie  abie  this  rebellious  act. 

{True  Tragedy.     T.) 

Lest  to  thy  peril  thou  aby  it  dear. 

(.1/.  .V.  D.  III.  ii.  175). 

43.  If  he  ■will  not  ransom  him, 
I'll  thunder  such  a  peal  into  his  ears, 
As  never  subject  did  unto  his  king. 

(II.  ii.  125). 

He  said  he  would  not  ransom  Mortimer — 
Forbad  my  tongue  to  speak  of  Mortimer. 
But  I  will  find  him  when  he  lies  asleep, 
And  in  his  ears  I'll  holloa,  "Mortimer." 

(i  Hen.  IV.  I.  iii.  219). 

And  spur  thee  on  with  full  as  many  lies 

As  may  be  holloa'd  in  thy  treacherous  ear, 

From  sun  to  sun. 

{Rich.  II.  IV.  i.  53). 

Comparison  between  the  voice  and  thunder  is  frequent. 

FF 


450  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

(See  John  III    iv.  38  ;  Rich.  HI.   I.  iv.  173  ;  L.  L.  L.  IV. 
ii.  119;  Bacon's  "Hen.  VII.,"  &c.) 

44.  The  wild  O'Neil,  with  swarms  of  Irish  kernes, 
Lives  imcontroll'd  within  the  English  pale. 

fll.  ii.  160). 

The  wild  O'Neil,  mv  lords,  is  up  in  arms, 
With  troops  of  Irish  kernes,  that  uncontrolled 
Doth  plant  themselves  within  the  English  pale. 

[Contention  III.  i.  282). 

(Altered  in  2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  282.     D.  F.  T.  V.) 

45.  The  haughty  Dane  commands  the  narrow  seas. 

(II.  ii.  164). 

Stern  Falconbridge  commands  tlie  narrow  seas. 

(3  Hen.  17.  I.  i.  239.     D.  F.  T.  V.) 

A  ship  of  rich  lading  wrecked  on  the  narrow  seas. 

(Mcr.  Ven.  III.  i.  3). 

46.  My  swelling  heart  for  very  anger  iDreaks. 

(II.  ii.  196). 

My  heart  for  anger  breaks  ;  I  cannot  speak. 

(True  Trail.  I-  i-  55)- 

(Slightly  altered  in  3  Hen.  VI.  I.  i.  60.     T.) 

He  has  strangled  his  language  in  his  tears. 

(Hen.  VIII.  V.  i.  156). 

The  broken  rancour  of  your  high-swol'n  hearts. 

(Rich.  III.  II.  ii.  117). 

47.  My  Lord,  dissemlDle  with  her,  speak  her  fair. 

(II.  ii.  225). 

I  must  entreat  him,  I  must  speak  him  fair. 

(I.  iv.  183). 

(Also  I.  i.  42  ;  II.  iv.  27  ;  V.  i.  gi). 

My  gracious  Lord,  entreat  him,  speak  him  fair. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  IV.  i.  120.     F.) 

I'll  write  unto  them  and  entreat  tliem  fair. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  I.  i.  271). 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  45  I 

You  must  speak  Sir  John  Falstaff  fair. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  V.  ii.  33). 

Do  I  entice  you  ?     Do  I  speak  you  fair  ? 

{M.  N.  D.  II.  i.  199). 

48.  Whoss  pining'  heart  her  inward  sighs  have  "blasted, 
And  "body  with  continual  mourning  wasted. 

(II.  iv.  23). 

Let  Benedick  .  .  .  consume  away  in  sighs,  waste  inwardly. 

{M.  Ado  III.  i.  77). 

Blood-consuming  sigh=;,  blood-drinking,  and  blood- 
sucking sighs,  are  well-known  Shakespearian  phrases. 
(See  a  similar  passage,  No/-  go). 

49.  Madam,  I  cannot  stay  to  answer  you. 

(II.  iv.  56). 

I  cannot  stay  to  speak. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  II.  iv.  86). 

I  cannot  stay  to  hear  tliese  articles. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  I.  i.  180). 

I  will  not  stay  thy  questions  ;  let  me  go. 

(iV.  A'.  D.  II.  i.  235.     F.). 

50.  Yet,  lusty  lords,  I  have  escaped  your  hands.  .  .  . 

(II.   V.   i.). 

I  wonder  how  he  'scaped  ? 

(II.  iv.  21). 

I  wonder  how  tlie  king  escaped  our  hands  ? 

(3  Hcu    VI.  II.  i.  1.     F.  V.) 

51.  When!    Can  you  tell? 

(II.  V.  57). 

A  slang  expression,  equivalent  to  "  Don't  you  wish  you 
may  get  it  ?  "  It  occurs  in  the  1616  edition  of  Faiistns, 
Sc.  ix.,  and  is  found  also  in  Com.  Er.  III.  i.  53,  and  i  Hen. 
IV.  II.  i.  43,     (See  also  Tit.  A.  I.  i.  202). 

52.  Treacherous  Earl !    Shall  I  not  see  the  king  ? 
The  King  of  heaven,  perhaps  :  no  other  king. 

(III.  i.  IS). 


452  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

A  similar  profane  retort  of  ironical  antithesis  occurs  in 
Rich.  III.  I.  ii.  105. 

O,  lie  was  gentle,  mild  and  virtuous  : — 

The  fitter  for  the  King  of  heaven  that  hath  him. 

53.  As  though  your  highness  were  a  school"boy  still, 
And  must  toe  awed  and  govern'd  like  a  child. 

(III.  ii.  30). 

I  see  no  reason  wliy  a  king  of  years 
Should  be  to  be  protected  like  a  child. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  II.  iii.  28.     F.). 

Why  should  he  then  protect  our  sovereign, 
He  being  of  age  to  govern  of  himself? 

{lb.  I.  i.  165). 

54.  Heaven's  great  "beams 
On  Atlas'  shoulder  shall  not  lie  more  safe. 

(III.  ii.  76). 

Thou  art  no  Atlas  for  so  great  a  weight. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  i.  36). 

Never  did  Atlas  such  a  burden  wear. 

As  she  in  holding  up  the  world  oppressed. 

(Bacon's  Device.) 

Your  lordship,  being  the  Atlas  of  the  Commonwealth . 

(Letter  to  Burghley.) 

55.  Ah,  l3oy  !  this  towardness  makes  thy  mother  fear 
Thou  art  not  mark'd  to  many  days  on  earth. 

(Ill.ii.  79). 

So  wise  so  young,  they  say  do  never  live  long  .  .  . 
Short  summers  lightly  have  a  forward  spring. 

{Rich.  III.  III.  i.  79,94)- 

56.  And  march  to  fire  them  from  their  starting  holes. 

(III.  ii.  127). 

He  tliat  parts  us  shall  bring  a  brand  from  heaven, 
And  fire  us  hence  like  foxes. 

{LearY.  iii.  22.     T.). 

What  starting-hole  canst  thou  now  hnd  ? 

(i  Hen.  IV.  II.  iv.  290). 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  453 

For  starting-hole  see  also  Bacon's  Syl.  Syl.,  998. 
"Starting-holes  and  Evasions"  are  referred  to  in  Bacon's 
Report  on  Lopez.     "Life"  L  283.     Compare  also, — 

Yet  this  I  ne'er  shall  know,  but  live  in  doubt, 
Till  my  bad  angel  fire  my  good  one  out. 

(Son.  144). 

These  references  to  starting-holes,  and  firing  out  may 
refer  to  the  law  of  Carseoli,  which  decreed  death  to  captive 
foxes. 

Cur  igitur  missoe  vinctis  ardentia  taedes 
Terga  f  erant  vulpes,  causa  docenda  mihi  est. 

'  (Ovid  Fast  IV.  68r,  705). 

The  same  reference  to  the  foxes  of  Carseoli  is  made  in 
I  Tamburlaine  1.  i.  31. 

For  this  reference  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  William 
Theobald. 

57.  I  will  have  heads  and  lives  for  him,  as  many 
As  I  have  manors,  castles,  towns,  and  towers. 

(III.  ii.  132). 

Plantagenct,  of  thee  and  of  thy  sons, 

Thy  kinsmen  and  thy  friends,  I'll  have  more  lives. 

Than  drops  of  blood  were  in  my  father's  veins. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  I.  i.  95). 

58.  My  Lord,  perceive  you,  how  these  rehels  swell  ? 

(III.  ii.  181). 

A  phrase  of  quite  Baconian  complexion  and  Shake- 
spearean condensation  ;  swell,  being  used  as  the  concrete 
presentation  of  all  the  various  forms  of  passion  or  emotion, 
which  cause  it  and  are  t3'pified  b}'  it.     (See  also  No.  14). 

59.  It  is  hut  temporal  that  thou  canst  inflict  : 

The  worst  is  death. 

(III.  iii.  57).     See  also  95. 

The  worst  is  worldly  loss  thou  canst  unfold.  .  .  . 
The  worst  is  death,  and  death  will  have  his  day. 

^A'/(//.  //.  III.  ii.94  103). 


4^[         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

60.  Better  die  to  live, 
Tiian  live  in  infamj'  under  such  a  king. 

(III.  iii.  58). 

Here  on  n\\  knee  I  beg  mortality, 
Rather  than  hfe  preserved  with  infamy. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  IV.  V.  32). 

61.  Can  ragged  stony  walls 
Immure  thy  virtue  tliat  aspired  to  heaven  ? 

(III.  iii.  71). 

That  gallant  spirit  hath  aspired  the  clouds, 
Which  too  untimely  here  did  scorn  the  earth. 

{Rom.  'Jul.  III.  i.  122). 

My  ragged  prison  walls. 

{Rich.  II.  V.  V.  21). 

The  ragged  stones. 

(27/.  A.  V.  iii.  133). 

This  worm-eaten  hold  of  ragged  stone. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  Induct.  35). 

The  splitting  rocks  cowcr'd  in  the  sinking  sands. 
And  would  not  dash  me  with  their  ragged  sides. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  97). 

Then  let  not  winter's  ragged  hand  deface. 

(Son.  6). 

Thy  smoothing  titles  to  a  ragged  name. 

(Lncrecc  892). 

62.  AlDrother?    No,  a  toutcher  of  thy  friends. 

(IV.  i.  4). 

Let  us  be  sacrificers,  but  not  butchers,  Caius. 

{Jul.  Ccvs.  II.  i.  166). 

63.  Stay  time's  advantage  with  your  son. 

(IV.  n.  18). 

The  advantage  of  the  time  prompts  me  aloud. 

{Tro.  Cr.  III.  iii.  2). 

Beyond  him  in  the  advantage  of  the  time. 

{Cynib.  IV.  i.  12). 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  455 

.  Make  use  of  time  ;  let  no  advantage  slip. 

{Vcn.  A.  129). 

Take  all  the  swift  advantage  of  the  hours. 

{Ridi.  III.  IV.  i.  49). 

(See  Chap.  XII.  36,  p.  261). 

64.  Would  cast  up  caps  and  clap  their  hands  for  joy. 

(IV.  ii.  55). 

The  rabblement  hooted,  and  clapped  their  chopt  hands,  and  threw 
up  their  sweaty  night-caps.  {'J"l-  Cess.  I.  ii.  246). 

(See  also  Cor.  IV.  vi.  130-133).     T. 

65.  To  bid  the  English  king  a  "base. 

(IV.  ii.  66). 

To  bid  the  wind  a  base  he  now  prepares. 

{Veil.  A.  303). 

Indeed  I  bid  the  base  for  Proteus. 

(2\  G.  V.  I.  ii.97).     T. 

66.  What  now  remains  ? 

(IV.  iii.  17). 

(Also  in  Rich.  II.  IV.  i.  222  ;  3  Hen,  VI.  IV.  iii.  60,  vii.  7). 

67.  Galop  apace,  iDright  PhcElDus,  through  the  sky, 
And  dusky  night,  in  rusty  iron  car, 
Between  you  "both,  shorten  the  time,  I  pray, 
That  I  may  see  the  most  desired  day. 

(IV.  ui.  44). 

It  is  generally  agreed  that  this  passage  (1598)  suggested 
the  celebrated  passage  in  Rom.  Jul.  (1597)  III.  li.  1-4. 
(D.  T.) 

68.  What,  was  I  horn  to  fly  and  run  away. 

And  leave  the  Mortimer's  conquerors  hehind  ? 
Give  me  my  horse  !  [l\.  v.  4). 

Mr.  White  ("Our  English  Hoiner,"  p.  199),  points  to 
this  passage  as  an  anticipation  of  Richard  III.'s  outburst, — 

A  horse  !  a  horse  !     My  kingdom  for  a  horse  !  .  .  . 
Slave  !  I  have  set  my  life  upon  a  cast, 


456         SHAKESPEARE     STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

And  I  will  stand  the  hazard  of  the  die  .  .  . 
A  horse  1  a  horse  !     My  kingdom  for  a  horse. 

(See  A' /(■//.  ///.  V.  iv.  7-13J. 

69.  Let  us  ...  in  this  iDed  of  honour  die  with  fame. 

(IV.  V.  7). 

Triumplis  over  chance  in  honour's  lofty  bed. 

{Tit.  A.  I.  i.  178). 

They  died  in  honour's  lofty  bed. 

{lb.  III.  i.  11). 

70.  Shape  we  our  course  to  Ireland,  there  to  breathe. 

(IV.  V.  3j. 

Thus  Kent,  O  princes,  bids  you  all  adieu  ; 
He'll  shape  his  old  course  in  a  country  new. 

{Lear  I.  i.  189). 

71.  Away  !  we  are  pursued. 

(IV.  V.  9). 

Away  !  for  death  doth  hold  us  in  pursuit. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  II.  V.  127). 

72.  Make  trial  now  of  that  philosophy, 
That  in  the  famous  nurseries  of  arts. 

Thou  sucked'st  from  Plato  and  from  Aristotle. 

(IV.  vi.  17). 

Fair  Padua,  nursery  of  arts.     .     .     . 
To  suck  the  sweets  of  sweet  philosophy. 

{Tarn.  SIi.  I.  i.  2,  28). 

Of  your  philosophy,  you  make  no  use 
If  you  give  place  to  accidental  evils. 

{yitl.  Ca'S.  IV.  iii.  145). 

Even  by  the  rule  of  that  philosophy,  &c. 

{lb.  V.  i.  loi). 

Nurse,  and  its  cognate,  Nurser)',  is  a  favourite  figure  with 
the  poet  and  philosopher. 

Rome,  the  nurse  of  judgment. 

{Hen.  VIII.  II.  ii.  94). 

Time  is  the  nurse  and  breeder  of  all  good. 

{Tw.  G.  F.  III.  i.  243 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  457 

Military  science    is    spoken    of   as, — "A    nursery  to   our 
gentry."     [All's  W.  I.  ii.  i6). 

Pardon  is  still  the  nurse  of  second  woe. 

(.1/.  /V.  II.  i.  288). 

Melancholy  is  the  nurse  of  frenzy. 

{Tain.  SIi.  Iiid.  ii.  135). 

Peace  .  .  .  dear  nurse  of  Arts. 

{Hen.  V.  V.  ii.  35). 

Bacon  speaks  of  the  Universitie.^^  as  "those  nurseries  and 
gardens  of  learning."  ("Life"  V.  143).  And  "Those 
parts  had  formally  been  a  nursery  of  their  friends." 
("Hen.  Vn."     Works  VI.  57). 

73.  Father,  this  life  contemplative  is  heaven. 

(IV.  vi.  20). 

Our  court  shall  be  a  little  Academe 
Still  and  contemplate  in  living  art. 

[L.  L.  L.  I.  i.  13). 

74.  With  awkward  winds  and  sore  tempests  driven. 

(IV.  vi.  34). 

Twice  by  awkward  winds  .  .  .  drove  back. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  83). 

We  see  the  wind  set  sore  upon  our  sails. 

(A'/c7/.  //.  II.  i.  265). 

This  sore  night  {i.e.,  stormy). 

{Macb.  II.  IV.  3). 

75.  We  shall  see  them  shorter  Itj  the  heads. 

(IV.  vi.  93). 

The  time  hath  been, 
Would  you  have  been  so  brief  with  him,  he  would 
Have  been  as  brief  with  you,  to  shorten  you, 
For  taking  so  the  head,  your  whole  head's  length. 

(/e/c//. //.  III.  iii.  10).     T. 

76.  Hence,  feigned  weeds  !  unfeigned  are  my  woes  ! 

[Til I  Dicing  off  liis  ilisgiiise). 

(IV.  vi.  96). 


45^         SHAKESPEARE   STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Every  word  here  is  equally  Shakespearean  and  Baconian  : 
so  also  is  the  antithesis.  The  dramatic  situation  recalls 
that  in  Lear,  when  the  King  throws  off  his  garments, 
exclaiming,  "Off!  off!  ye  lendings !  Come,  unbutton 
here."     (Tearing  off  his  clothes).     (Lear  III.  iv.  113). 

77.  Cease  to  lament. 

(V.  i.  I  ;  also  II.  iv.  29). 

Cease  to  lament. 

(Tiv.  G.  V.  III.  i.  241). 

78.  Imagine  Killingworth  Castle  were  your  court, 
And.  that  you  lay  for  pleasure  here  a  space, 

Not  of  compulsion  or  necessity. 

(V.  i.  2). 

The  same  idea,  with  large  and  most  poetic  amplification, 
is  in  Rich.  U.  I.  iii.  262-303,  where  Bolingbroke,  being 
banished,  is  urged  by  Gaunt  to  imagine  that  his  banish- 
ment is  only  a  "travel  that  thou  takest  for  pleasure." 

Look  !  what  thy  soul  holds  dear,  imagine  it 

To  lie  that  way  thou  goest,  not  whence  thou  comest. 

79.  The  forest  deer,  heing  struck. 
Runs  to  an  herh  that  closeth  up  the  wounds. 

(V.  i.  9). 

Mr.  Tancock  (Clarendon  Edition)  asks,  "Is  it  likely  that 
Marlowe  had  in  mind  Virgil  ?  " 

Dictamnum  genetrix  Cretoea  carpit  ab  Ida 
Puberibus  caulem  foliis,  et  flora  comantem 
Purpureo  :  non  ilia  feris  incognita  capris 
Gramina,  cum  tergo  volucres  h^csere  sagitt:e. 

{ALneid,  XII.  412-415). 

The  reply  to  Mr.  Tancock  is, — Certainly  ;  this  passage  was 
in  the  poet's  mind.  Bacon  quotes  the  passage  to  illustrate 
the  same  idea,  and  the  poetic  fancy  in  Marlowe's  verse 
finds  scientific  expression  in  Bacon's  prose.  (See  "Adv. 
of  L."  U.  xhi.  2,  p.  150  Clar.  ;  Dc  Aug.  V.  ii.) 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  459 

80.       But  when  the  imperial  lion's  flesh  is  gored, 
He  rends  and  tears  it  with  his  wrathful  paw. 
And,  highly  scorning  that  the  lowly  earth  . 
Should  drink  his  "blood,  mounts  up  to  the  air. 

(V.i.  II). 

Aspiring  Lancaster. 

(I.  i.  92). 

What,  will  the  aspiring  blood  of  Lancaster 

Sink  to  the  uround  ?     I  thought  it  would  have  mounted. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  vi.  61— D.F.V.) 


fci 


The  lion,  d3'ing,  thrusteth  forth  his  paw 

And  wounds  the  earth,  if  nothing  else,  with  rage 

To  be  o'erpower'd. 

{Rich.  II.  V.  i.  29). 

The  same  idea,  seen  also  in  No.  6i,  namely,  mounting 
to  the  clouds  and  scorning  the  lower  levels  left  behind,  is 
seen  in  another  guise,  in  the  following  passage: — 

Lowliness  is  3'oung  ambition's  ladder, 
Whereto  the  climber-upwards  turns  his  face; 
But  when  he  once  attains  the  upmost  round 
Looks  in  the  clouds,  scorning  the  base  degrees 
Bv  which  he  did  ascend. 

{Jul  Cics.  II.  i.  22). 

81.  Whose  dauntless  mind. 

iV.  i.  15). 

Thy  dauntless  mind. 

(3  Hell.  VI.  III.  iii.  17). 

82.  Thus  hath  pent  and  mew'd  me  in  a  prison. 

(V.  i.  8). 

Pent  occurs  in  Coriolanus  and  Cymbeline.  E.xcepting 
these,  pent  and  mewed  are  words  which  are  only  found,  in 
this  sense,  in  the  early  historical  plays — i.e.,  Tarn.  Sh., 
Rom.  Jul.,  L.  L.  Lost,  M.N.D.:  Ex  gr:—"ln  shady 
cloister  mewed:  "  "  being  pent  from  liberty." 

It  occurs  with  the  same  sense  of  imprisonment  in  the 
Sonnets. 


460  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

A  liquid  prisoner  pent  in  walls  of  glass. 
'  (Sonnet  5). 

I,  being  pent  in  thee, 
Perforce  am  thine  and  all  that  is  in  me. 

(Sonnet  133). 

Bacon  writing  to  Buckingham,  June  4th,  1621,  imme- 
diately after  being  released  from  his  three  or  four  days' 
imprisonment  in  the  Tower,  says,  "  My  adversity  hath 
neither  spent  nor  pent  my  spirits"  ("Life"  VII.  281). 
Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  word  refers  to  prison  restraint. 
The  Shakespearean  use  is  seen  in  the  following  passages  : 

Away  with  her,  and  pen  her  up. 

{Cyiiib.  I.  i.  152). 

Let  me  not  be  pent  up,  sir. 

{L.  L.  L.  I.  ii.  160). 

83.  {a)  I  am  lodged  witliin  this  cave  of  care, 
(6)  Where  sorrow  at  my  elloow  still  attends, 
(0  To  company  my  heart  with  sad  laments. 

(V.  i.  32). 

{a)  Where  care  lodges. 

(Rout.  Jul.  II.  iii.  36). 

See  Promiis  Note  1203:  "  Lodged  next  "  (one  of  a  group 
of  Romeo  and  Juliet  notes). 

{b)  Conscience  is  .  .  .  even  now  at  my  elbow. 

(A'/c7/.  ///.  I.  iv.  150). 

The  fiend  is  at  mine  elbow. 

{Mcr.  Veil.  II.  ii.  2). 

For  company,  as  a  verb,  we  have, 

(c)  I  am,  sir, 

The  soldier  that  did  company  these  three 
In  poor  beseeming. 

{Cymb.  V.  v.  407). 

84.  My  heart    .    .    .    "bleeds  within  me  for  this   sad 

exchange. 

(V.  i.  35). 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  461 

The  blood  weeps  from  m}-  heart  when  I  do  shape,  &c. 

(2  Hen  IV.  IV.  iv.  58). 

My  heart  bleeds  inwardly  that  my  father  is  so  sick. 

{lb.  II.  ii.  51). 

I  bleed  inwardly  for  m\-  lord. 

{Tiiiiou  I.  ii.  211). 

Bleeding  inwards  and  shut  vapours  strangle  soonest  and  oppress 
most.  (Bacon's  "  Hen.  VII.,"  Op.  VI.  153). 

For  Bacon's  and  Shakespeare's  references  to  inward 
bleeding,  see  Chap.  XII.,  Sect.  12.,  p.  240. 

85.  For  he's  a  lamh,  encompassed  hy  wolves. 

(V.  i.  41). 

Such  safety  finds 
The  trembling  lamb  environed  by  wolves. 

(3  Hen  VI.  I.  i.  242  (V). 

86.  But  if  proud  Mortimer  do  wear  this  crown, 
Heaven  turn  it  to  a  hlaze  of  quenchless  fire. 

(V.  i.  45). 

I  would  to  God  that  the  inclusive  verge 
Of  golden  metal  that  must  round  my  brow 
Were  red-hot  steel,  to  sear  me  to  the  brain. 

{Ricli.  Ill  IV.  i.  59). 

Th}^  crown  does  sear  mine  eyeballs. 

{Macb.  IV.  i.  113). 

For  quenchless,  see  3  Hen.  T7.  I.  iv.  28;  Lucrece,  1554. 

87.  Come  death,  and  with  thy  fingers  close  my  eyes, 
Or  if  I  live,  let  me  forget  myself. 

(V.  i.  no). 

Compare  this  with  the  many  instances  in  Shakespeare 
in  which  voluntary  forgetting  is  spoken  of  as  possible. 
See  the  fuller  discussion  in  Chap.  XL,  Sect.  4.,  p.  216. 

88.  Inhuman  creature,  nursed  with  tiger's  milk  ! 

(V.  i.  71). 

There  is  no  more  mercv  in  him  than  there  is  milk  in  a  male  tiger" 

{Cor.  V.  iv.  29). 


462         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

89.  Call  me  not  lord ;  away  out  of  my  sight. 

(V.  i.  113). 

So  in  the  similar  scene  in  Ricli.  II.  Northumberland 
addresses  the  King  as  My  lord,  and  the  Kin^^  replies  : — 

No  lord  of  thine,  tliou  hau^lit,  insultiniLi"  man. 

{Ricli.  II.  IV.  i.  254). 

See  75.  Brandis  says  that  the  abdication  scene  in 
Rich.  II.  "  is  a  downright  imitation  of  the  abdication  scene 
in  Marlowe." 

90.  Bear  this  to  the  Queen, 

Wet  with  my  tears,  and  dried  again  with  sighs: 

[Gives  a  liandkcrchicf] 

If  with  the  sight  thereof  she  iDe  not  mov'd, 
Return  it  "back  and  dip  it  in  my  "blood,        (V.  i.  117). 

She  with  her  tears 
Doth  quench  the  maiden  burning  of  his  cheeks, 
Then  with  her  windy  sighs  and  golden  hairs 
To  fan  and  blow  them  dry  again  she  seeks. 

(IV/?.  .4.  49). 

Sighs  dry  her  cheeks,  tears  make  them  wet  again. 

{lb.  966). 

Sorrow's  wind  and  rain. 

(A  Lover's  Lameiil). 

"  Why,  man,  if  the  river  were  dry,  T  am  able  to  iill  it  with  my 
tears;  if  the  wind  were  down,  I  could  drive  the  boat  with  mv  sighs. 

{Tico  Gen/.  ]'er.  II.  iii.  57). 

Shakespeare  was  much  given  to  find  in  tears  and  sighs 
the  constituents  of  a  tempest. 

Gerald  Massey  {Sonnets,  pp.  465 — 468)  comments  on 
the  following  lines  from  "England's  Helicon,"  which  he 
claims  for  Shakespeare: — 

With  windy  sighs  disperse  them  in  the  skies, 
Or  with  thy  tears  dissolve  them  into  rain. 

The  same  use  of  a  blood-stained  napkin  is  in  3  Hen.  VI. 
II.  i.  60,  and  in  Mark  Antony's  speech:— 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  463 

Dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood. 

{■Jill.  Cc's.  III.  ii.  138.) 

91.  And  thus  most  liumt)ly  do  we  take  our  leave. 

(V.  i.  124). 

Here  hum"bly  of  your  grace  we  take  our  leave. 

(IV.  vi.  77). 

And  thus  most  humbly  I  do  take  my  leave. 

(3  Hai.  VI.  I.  ii.  61.     F.) 

And  so,  I  take  my  leave. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  IV.  viii.  28). 

And  so,  most  joyfully,  we  take  our  leave. 

{Rich.  III.  III.  vii.  244). 

I  humbly  take  my  leave. 

{Cyiiib.  I.  V.  45). 

As  a  ceremonious  expression  this  is  found  at  the  end  of 
many  of  Bacon's  letters, — to  Lady  Burghley,  Lord 
Burghley,  Pickering,  Rutland,  and  to  his  own  mother. 
(See  "Life"  Vol.  I.,  12,  13,  60,  117,  293,  bis;  II.  18). 

92.  To  wretched  men,  death  is  felicity. 

(V.  i.  127). 

The  word  fcliciiy  occurs  only  twice  in  Shakespeare,  and, 
in  one  of  these  cases,  it  is  applied  to  death,  as  a  release 
from  trouble  : — 

Absent  thee  irom  fclicify  awhile, 

And  in  this  harsh  world,  draw  tin'  breath  in  pain. 

(Ham.  V.  ii.  358). 

93.  Well  may  I  rent  his  name  that  rends  my  heart. 

{Tears  the  paper). 

(V.  i.  140). 

"This  passion,  shewn  in  the  unavailing  tearing  of  the 
writ,  may  be  compared  with  passion  of  Rich.  II.,  as  he 
dashes  the  looking-glass  to  pieces.  {Cf.  Rich  II.  IV.  i. 
228.")     T. 

94.  Even  so  betide  my  soul  as  I  use  him. 

(V.  i.  148). 


464         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

And  so  betide  to  me 
As  well  I  tender  you  :ind  :ill  of  3-ours. 

(A'a7/. ///.  II.  iv.  71). 

95.  Of  this  I  am  assured, 
That  death  ends  all,  and  I  can  die  "but  once. 

(V.  i.  153). 

The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once  .  .  . 

Death,  a  necessary  evil, 

Will  come  when  it  will  come. 

{Jul.  Ors.  II.  ii.  33-37). 

(See  also  No.  59).     T. 

96.  For  now  we  hold  an  old  wolf  "by  the  ears. 

(V.  ii.  7). 

More  safety  there  is  in  a  tiger's  jaws, 

Than  his  emt)racements. 

(V.  i.  116). 

(See  Pyomus  note  829 — "  To  hold  a  wolf  by  the  ears.") 

In  Shakespeare,  as  in  Marlowe,  this  note  suggests  varia- 
tions on  the  original  metaphor  :  the  exact  counterpart  of 
Bacon's  memorandum  is  only  in  Marlowe. 

France,  thou  may'st  hold  a  serpent  by  the  tongue, 

A  chafed  lion  by  the  mortal  paw, 

A  fasting  lion  safer  by  the  tooth. 

Than  keep  in  peace  that  hand  which  thou  dost  hold. 

{yolui  III.  i.  258). 

97.  No  more  iDut  so. 

(V.  ii.  33). 

No  more  but  so  ? 

{Ham .  L  iii.  loj. 

98.  The  nightly  iDird  (i.e.  the  owl) 

Whose  sight  is  loathesome  to  all  winged  fowls. 

(V.  iii.  6). 

Here  nothing  breeds 
Unless  the  nightl}-  owl  or  fatal  raven. 

(77/.  A.  U.  iii.  96). 

The  owl  is  often  referred  to  by  Shakespeare  as  the  bird  of 
night. 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS,  465 

99.  Art  thou  so  resolute  as  thou  wast  ? 

What  else,  my  lord.  ?  and  far  more  resolute. 

(V,  iv.  22). 

(Also  IV.  vi.  117  ;    V.  v.  25  and  32). 

For  the  significance  of  this  phrase  see  Chapter  XI.,  p. 
221. 

100.  I  learn'd.  in  Naples  how  to  poison  flowers  .  .  . 
Or,  whilst  one  is  asleep,  to  take  a  quill 

And  blow  a  little  powder  in  his  ears. 

(V.iv.31). 

This  method  of  poisoning  reminds  one  of  the  murder  of 
Hamlet's  father.  Bacon  habitually  associates  poisoning 
with  Ital}^  Thus,  in  his  charge  against  Wentworth  :  "It 
is  an  offence  that  I  may  truly  say  of  it,  non  est  nostri  generis, 
nee  sanguinis.  It  is,  thanks  be  to  God,  rare  in  this  island 
of  Brittany  .  .  .  You  may  find  it  in  Rome  and  Italy. 
There  is  a  religion  for  it."  ("Life"  V.  ii.  215).  In 
Cymbeline  we  find  "drug-damned  Italy,"  and  "false 
Italian  (as  poison-tongued)." 

101.  Fear'd  am  I  more  than  lov'd  ;  let  me  Ido  fear'd. 

(V.  iv.  51). 

Would'st  thou  "be  lov'd  and  fear'd  ? 

(I.  i.  168). 
She  shall  be  lov'd  and  fear'd. 

{Hen.  VIII.  V.  V.  31). 

That  noble  honour'd  lord  is  fear'd  and  lov'd. 

{W.T.V.i.  158'. 

Never  was  monarch  better  fear'd  and  lov'd, 
Than  is  vour  Majesty. 

{Hen.  V.  II.  ii.  25). 

This  deed  will  make  thee  onh'  lov'd  for  fear  ; 
But  happy  monarchs  still  are  fear'd  for  love, 

{Lucrece  610). 

And  it  appears  he  is  beloved  of  those 
That  onlv  liave  fear'd  Cagsar. 

{Ant.  CI.  I.  iv.  26). 

Bacon,  in  his  early  letter  of  advice  to  the  Queen  (1584), 

GG 


466         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

speaks  of  "A  prince  that  is  not  beloved  nor  feared  of  his 
people."     ("  Life  "  I.  53). 

102.  "Whose  looks  are  as  a  iDreeching'  to  a  boy. 

(V.  iv.  54). 

I  am  no  breeching  scliolar  in  the  scliools. 

{Tarn.  SIi.  III.  i.  18). 

None  do  3-011  like  but  an  effeminate  prince 
Whom,  like  a  school-boy,  you  may  overawe. 

(i  Hcii.  VI.  I.  i.  35). 

103.  The  Queen  and  Mortimer 
Shall  rule  the  realm,  the  King  ;  and  none  rules  us. 

(V.  iv.  64). 

Margaret  shall  now  be  queen,  and  rule  the  king ; 
Rut  I  will  rule  botli  her,  the  king  and  realm. 

(i  Hen.  VI.  V.  V.  107).     V.W 

Compare  the  last  speech  in  the  Massacre  of  Paris, 

For  I'll  rule  France,  hut  they  shall  wear  tlic  crown. 

104.  Who's  there  ?    What  light  is  that  ?   Wherefore  comest 

thou?  (V.  V.  41). 

But  wherefore  dost  thou  come  ?    Is't  for  my  life. 

(3  Hen.  VI.  V.  vi.  29).     V. 

Who  sent  you  hither  ?     Wherefore  do  you  come  ? 

{Rich.  III.  I.  iv.  176). 

The  murder  scenes  in  3  Hen.  VI.  and   Rich.  III.  have 
precisely  similar  expressions  to  those  in  Edw.  II. 

105.  Tell  IsalDel  the  queen,  I  look'd  not  thus, 
When  for  her  sake  I  ran  at  tilt  in  France, 
And  there  unhorsed  the  Duke  of  Cleremont. 

(V.  V.  65). 

I  tell  thee,  Pole,  when  thou  did'st  run  at  tilt, 
And  stol'st  away  our  ladies'  hearts  in  France, 
I  thought  king  Henry  had  been  like  to  thee. 

{Contention  I.  iii.) 

Almost  reproduced  in  2  Hen.  VI.  I.  iii.  53.     (D.  F.  T.  V.) 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS,  467 

106.  These  loois  of  thine  can  harbour  nought  "but  death, 
I  see  my  tragedy  written  in  thy  "brows. 

(V.  V.  70). 

Yea  til  is  man's  brow,  like  to  a  title-leaf, 
Foretells  the  nature  of  a  tragic  volume. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  I.  i.  60). 

107.  Is't  done,  Matrevis,  and  the  murderer  dead  ? 
Ay,  my  good  lord ;  I  would  it  were  undone. 

[\ .  vi.  i). 

This  takes  suggestion  from  two  Proiims  notes,  "Things 
done  cannot  be  undone  (Factuin  infectwn  fieri  non  potest),'" 
No.  951  ;  and  "  Odere  reges  dicta  qnce  did  jubent,"  No.  ^by. 
The  dramatic  situation  in  the  text,  repentance  after 
execution,  is  curiously  frequent  in  Shakespeare,  see 
instances  in  John  Il\  ii.  203 — 242;  Rich.  II.  V.  vi.  30— 
52  ;  Rich.  III.  I.  iv.  270,  283— 2S5  ;  Mcas.  for  Meas.  II.  ii. 
10;  Macb.  III.  ii.  12;  Pericles  IV.  iii.  i — 21.  For 
example  :— 

He  tliat  set  you  on 
To  do  this  deed  will  hate  you  for  the  deed. 

{Rich.  III.  I.  iv.  261). 

108.  As  for  myself  I  stand  as  Jove's  huge  tree, 
And  others  are  hut  shruhs  compar'd  to  me. 

(V.  vi.  10). 

Whose  top-branch  over-peer'd  Jove's  spreading  tree, 
And  kept  low  shrubs  from  winter's  powerful  wind. 

(3  Hcii.  VI.  V.  ii.  14). 

The  cedar  stoops  not  to  the  base  shrub's  foot, 
But  low  shrubs  wither  at  the  cedar's  root. 

[Lticrcce  664). 

Jove's  tree  is  also  referred  to  in  As   You  Like  It  III.    ii. 
249.     (T.) 

109.  Base  fortune  ;  now  I  see  that  in  thy  wheel 
There  is  a  point,  to  which  when  men  aspire 
They  tumhle  headlong  down. 

(V.  vi.  57). 


468  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

For  similar  reference  to  the  Wheel  of  Fortune  see 
Hen.  V.  III.  vi.  27 — 40  ;  Ham.  III.  iii.  17 — 23.  For  the 
sentiment,  apart  from  the  metaphor,  see  Essay  of  "  Great 
Place,"  first  paragraph ;  and  its  striking  parallels  in 
John  III.  iv.  137 — 8  ;  Rich.  HI.  I.  iii.  259;  Troilus  III.  iii. 
75 — 87  ;  Cymb.  III.  iii.  45 — 55.  In  the  Cymbeline  passage,, 
written  in  later  life,  Bacon  seems  to  draw  upon  his  own 
experience  ;  but  during  the  whole  of  his  life  the  sentiment 
was  often  suggested. 

And  turn  the  giddy  round  of  Fortune's  wheel. 

{Liicrecc  952). 

For  Bacon's  references  to  the  Wheel  of  Fortune  see 
Essays  of  "Sedition,"  of  "Custom  and  Education,"  of 
"Fortune,"  the  Squire's  Speech  in  Bacon's  "Device,"  and 
a  late  letter  to  King  James.  Also  in  As  Yon  Like  It,. 
Ant.  CI.,  and  3  Hen.  VI. 

110.  Mortimer  (a)  scorns  the  -world,  and  (b),  as  a  traveller^ 

Goes  to  discover  countries  yet  unknown. 

(V.  vi.  62). 

(<i)  That  a  gallant  spirit  hath  aspired  the  clouds 
Which  too  untimely  here  did  scorn  the  earth. 

{Rom,  Jul.  III.  i.  122), 

[b)  The  undiscover'd  country,  from  whose  bourn 

No  traveller  returns.  {Ham.  III.  i.  79). 

See  also  No.  61. 

111.  And  jointly  'both  yield  up  their  wished  right. 

(V.  i.  63). 

And  needs  must  I  resign  my  wished  crown. 

{lb.  70). 

This  peculiar  use  of  the  word  wished,  as  equivalent  to 
valued,  something  that  is  clung  to,  is  not  infrequent  in  the 
earlier  Shakespearean  plays.  It  occurs  also  in  one  of  the 
later  plays — viz.,  Winter''^  Tale.     Ex.  gr.  : — 

The  wished  haven  of  my  bliss. 

{Tdin.  Sh.  V.  i.  131), 


MARLOWE    PARALLELS.  469 

The  benefit  of  the  wished  light. 

{Com.  Er.  I.  i.  91). 

Bring  this  matter  to  the  wished  end. 

(I  Hen.  VI.  III.  iii.  28). 

Losing  ken  of  Albion's  wished  coast. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  ii.  113). 

This  use  of  the  word  •wished,  in  which  a  participle 
becomes  an  adjective,  is  obviously  a  reflection  of  a 
similar  evolution  in  the  Latin  word  optatus.     Ex.  gr: — 

Optata  potiuntur  Troes  arena. 

{Virg.  .£.  I.  172). 

112.  Too  long  have  I  lived 
"Whenas  my  son  thinks  to  ahridge  my  days. 

^V.  vi.  81). 

Which  in  a  moment  will  ahridge  his  life. 

(//'.  i.  42). 

Thy  staying  will  abridge  thy  life. 

{Tico.  Gent.  Ver.  Ill.i.  245). 

Death  rock  nie  asleep  ;  abridge  my  doleful  da3's. 

(2  Hen.  IV.  II.  iv.  211). 

113.  These  tears,  distilling  from  mine  eyes. 

(V.  vi.  99). 

O  Earth,  I  will  befriend  thee  with  more  rain 

That  shall  distil  from  these  two  ancient  urns  [i.e.  his  eyes]. 

{T.A.  III.  i.  16). 

Tears  distilled  by  moans. 

{Rom.  fi:!.  V.  iii.  15). 

This  is  undoubtedly  a  large  collection  ol  parallels 
between  Shakespeare  and  Marlowe.  If  such  a  collection 
could  be  made  by  comparing  all  the  Marlowe  plays  and 
poems,  the  question  of  identical  authorship  would  present 
Itself;  much  more  so  when  only  one  play,  and  that  not  a 
very  long  one,  is  brought  into  comparison.  I  admit  that 
all  these  correspondences  are  not  of  equal  value, — some  are 
so  striking  as  to    make    the    evidence    of    some    kind  of 


470  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

approximation  between  the  two  quite  irresistible:  others 
are  less  conclusive.  Also  it  may  be  allowed  that  many  of 
these  phrases  or  fancies  which  are  common  to  Shake- 
speare and  Marlowe  may  be  found  in  other  writers.  But 
even  these  are  not  without  their  significance.  No  two 
writers  help  themselves  in  precisely  the  same  way  to  the 
current  phrases  and  notions  that  may  be  floating  in  the  air 
at  the  time.  Some  individuality  is  shewn  even  in  these 
points  of  correspondence;  and  taking  the  whole  collection, 
the  weak  and  the  strong  tied  up  into  one  parcel,  I  will 
venture  to  affirm  that  no  two  authors  hunt  in  couples  with 
such  strange  and  "semblable  coherence,"  as  do  Shake- 
speare and  Marlowe. 

In  estimating  the  significance  of  the  large  collection  of 
parallels,  which  I  have  here  produced,  it  is  to  be  noticed, 
that  in  many  cases  the  resemblance  between  Marlowe  and 
Shakespeare  consists  in  the  fact  that  Marlowe  gives  us  the 
earliest  presentation  of  ideas,  and  forms  of  poetic  ex- 
pression, which  are  repeated  very  frequently  in  Shake- 
speare, and  have  come  to  be  regarded  as  characteristic 
forms  of  his  art.  In  no  less  than  31  of  these  cases,  the 
parallel  is  not  between  two  isolated  passages,  but  between 
the  one  in  Marlowe  and  a  more  or  less  extensive  collection 
in  Shakespeare.  The  cases  I  refer  to  are,  Nos.  i,  7,  14, 
15,  16,  17,  20,  24,  29,  32,  33,  34,  39,  43,  46,  47,  48,  58,  61, 
63,  72,  80,  84,  86,  87,  90,  99,  104,  108,  109,  no.  In  all  these 
cases  where  Marlowe  resembles  Shakespeare,  he  resembles 
that  in  him  which  is  most  Shakespearean. 

If  the  probability  of  identical  authorship  is  very  great 
when  the  evidence  is  tabulated  in  over  a  hundred  instances, 
it  is  very  much  augmented,  when  so  many  of  these  instances 
are  a  group  themselves,  and  a  group  of  passages  which  has 
been  made  into  English  verbal  currency  by  their  use  in 
Shakespeare. 

Besides  these  parallel  passages,  there  are  numerous 
cases  in  which  the  peculiar  use  of  single  words  or  short 
terms   of    expression   brings  to   mind    analogous    use    of 


SIMILAR    PHRASEOLOGY.  47I 

language  in  Shakespeare.  The  only  critic  who  has  given 
any  special  attention  to  these  single  words  and  small 
phrases  is  Mr.  Tancock,  in  the  Clarendon  Edition.  What 
little  use  Mr.  Fleay  makes  of  them,  I  have  already  indi- 
cated. I  would  gladly  give  all  these  words  and  phrases, 
with  detailed  references  to  the  passages,  and  to  the 
corresponding  words  in  Shakespeare  ;  but  I  will  content 
myself  with  a  simple  enumeration,  followed  by  a  few 
supplementary  comments.     The  words  or  phrases  are  :^ 

Adamant;  Argues;  Avouch;  Bandy;  It  boots  not; 
Brainsick;  Braved;  Breeching;  Brown-bills;  Buckler; 
Canker;  Caucasus;  Centre;  Civil;  Cockerel;  Colour; 
Comfort;  Controlnient ;  Crownet ;  Cullions  ;  Curstly ;  Dash; 
Drift;  Decline;  Elysium;  Empale;  Empery ;  Entertain; 
Exequies;  Exigents;  Extremes  ;  Foreslow  ;  Garish;  Gather 
head ;  This  gear ;  Gentle  heavens;  Gored;  Greekish;  Hatch; 
Haught;  Have  at;  Hearten;  A  hell  of  grief;  High  disgrace; 
Incense;  Infortunate ;  Jack;  Jesses;  Jets  it ;  Larded  with; 
Leander ;  Level  at;  Long  of;  Love-sick ;  Magnanimity ; 
Merely;  Mickle ;  Minion;  Mort  dieu ;  Mounting;  Over- 
watched ;  Pass  not ;  Pay  them  home  ;  Peevish  ;  Plain  ; 
Prate  ;  Preachment ;  Purge  the  realm  ;  Quittance  ;  Reduce  ; 
Repeal;  What  resteth ;  Runagates;  Sophister ;  Sort  of; 
Sort  out;  Speed;  Stir;  Stomach;  Store  of;  Strange; 
Tender;  Timeless;  Totter' d;   Toys;   Tully ;   Vail;   Yearns. 

x\ll  these  words  are  common  to  Edward  H.  and  Shake- 
peare.  Bacon  uses  many  of  these  words.  I  may  refer  to 
the  following  passages  as  specimens  : — 

Bandy.     See  Promus,  note  1,421,  and  reference. 

Brainsick.  "  A  mutinous  brain-sick  soldier."  "Life" 
I.  378. 

Colour,  i.e.,  plausible  show  of  reason  :  a  sense  which  has 
acquired  currency  from  Bacon's  "  Colours  of  Good  and 
Evil." 

Foreslow.     "  No  coldness  in  foreslowing,  but  wisdom  in 


472  SHAKESFEARli    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

choosing'  his  time."  "  Hen.  VII."  Op.  vi.  179.  See  3 
Hen.  ri.  II.  iii.  56. 

Forcslow.  "  I  forget  not  nor  foreslow  not  your  Majesty's 
commandment."    Report  on  Owen,  1614.     "  Life  "  V.  loi. 

Hatched.  "  In  her  chamber  the  conspiracy  had  been 
hatched.''     lb.  p.  46. 

Infortunatc.     Essays  4  and  40. 

Long  of.  "If  the  king  did  no  greater  matters,  it  was  long 
o/himWf."     "Hen.  VII."  Op.  vi.  244 

Pay  home  resembles  Bacon's  "  He  could  dissemble  home.'' 
It  is  Shakespeare's  own  phrase  "I  will  pay  thy  graces 
home  both  in  word  and  deed."  Temp.  V.  i.  70.  Meiklejohn, 
commenting  on  Macb.  I.  iii.  120,  says  "  This  is  a  peculiarly 
Shakespearian  use  of  the  word  home.  We  have  still  to 
strike  home;  but  Shakespeare  gives  us  the  phrase.  To  push 
home  ;  to  charge  home  ;  to  draw  home,  (of  a  bow)  ;  a 
game  played  home,  i.e.,  in  good  earnest  ;  all  my  services 
you  have  paid  home, — and  several  more. 

Runagate.  "  Perkin  would  prove  but  a  runagate." 
Hen.  Vn.  p.   172. 

Sophister.  "Orators  and  Sophistcrs."  "Adv.  of  L,"  II. 
xiv.  6. 

I  will  add  the  following  notes  0:1  some  other  peculiarities 
in  the  phraseology  of  Edward  H. 

1.  We  find  a  number  of  over  words — over-base,  over- 
bear, over-daring,  over-peered,  over-ruled,  over-stretched, 
over-stronged,  over-watched,  over-woo.  Shakespeare  is  very 
fond  of  these  "over"  adjectives  and  verbs,  and  the  use  of 
them  is  very  characteristic.  There  are  about  129  different 
compounds  of  this  type,  made  by  over  or  o'er.  Five  out  of 
the  nine  used  in  Edward  U.  are  also  in  Shakespeare,  viz  : 
over-bear,   -daring,  -peered,  -ruled,  -watched. 

2.  Marlowe's  use  of  the  word  strange  is  remarkable,  // 
he  be  strange,  and  not  regard  my  words.  Strange  here 
means  distant,  unfriendly,  what  we  should  call  stand-offish. 
So  2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  5.  Troihis  III.  iii.  51,  "a  form  of 
strangeness."     There  is  another  use  of  the  word,  as  in  Is  it 


COMMON  WORDS  PROMOTED.  473 

not  strange,  I.  ii,  55,  in  which  the  word  has  no  unusual 
sense,  but  the  phrase  is  so  frequent,  both  in  Bacon  and 
Shakespeare,  as  to  be  noteworthy  as  a  perpetual  trick  of 
speech.  In  the  Promtis  we  find  this  anticipated  by  the 
note  /  find  that  strange.  No,  302,  and  this  occurs,  with 
slight  variations,  in  many  well-known  passages  in  Ham., 
Jul.  C,  Troilus,  Temp.,  &c.  It  is  found  in  Essays  10,  18, 
22,  27,  44,  56;  also  \n  "Adv.,"  and  elsewhere.  It  is  an 
expression  which  would  pass  unnoticed  but  for  the  singular 
frequency  of  its  recurrence,  and  its  insertion  in  the  Promiis. 
Strange  is  certainly  used  strangely  by  Shakespeare.  The 
following  passages  are  unintelligible  unless  strange  means 
like  a  stranger,  which  is  the  meaning  in  Marlowe. 

Against  that  time  when  thou  shalt  strangely  pass, 
And  scarcely  greet  me  with  that  sun,  thine  eye. 

(^Sonnet  49). 

I  will  acquaintance  strangle  and  look  strange. 

(^Sonnet  iSy). 

She  puts  on  outward  strangeness,  seem  unkind. 

(I'cii.  Ad.  310). 

Bacon  uses  the  word  in  precisely  the  same  way.  For 
example^"  The  Duchess  made  it  new  and  strange  to  see 
him  "  Hen.   VH.,  Works  VI.  138,  and  see  also  p.  241. 

3.  The  word  suck  (see  parallel  72)  belongs  to  a  class  of 
words  which  are  promoted,  so  to  speak,  from  the  ranks, 
and  ennobled  for  poetic  service.  In  Shakespeare,  such 
words  are  boil,  bulk,  crack,  fust,  jump,  prate,  shop,  spit, 
suck,  top,  tub,  wink,  &c.  Bacon  iias  the  same  habit  :  he 
also  uses  jump,  suck,  shop,  top.  A  crowd  of  specimens  may 
be  picked  out  by  looking  over  the  terminology  of  his  tables  of 
instances,  in  the  second  book  of  Nov.  Org.,  where  poetry  and 
science  are  curiously  blended.  Suck  is  a  very  characteristic 
specimen.  Shakespeare  has  suck  melancholy,  suck  the 
sweets  of  philosophy,  suck  wisdom,  suck  the  honey  of 
music  vows,  suck  the  sense  of  fear.  Bacon  has  suck 
suspicion,   suck  experience,  &c.     Ex.  gr.  :  "  If  a  man   be 


474         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    L'IGHT. 

thought  secret  it  inviteth  discovery,  as  the  more  close  air 
sucketh  in  the  more  open."  See  Essays  of  "  Dissimula- 
tion," of  "  Travel,"  "Hen.  VI." 

4.  Marlowe  has  thrice  welcome,  treble-blest.  Shakespeare 
is  ver}-  partial  to  this  method  of  augmenting  the  import  of 
his  words.  He  has  thrice  fair,  crowned,  famed,  gentle, 
noble  ;  tliricc  double  a=s  ;  iiCJice  treble  shame  ;  double  and 
treble  admonition.  Bacon  had  the  same  habit,  ex.  ^r., 
Thrice  loving  friend,  "Life,"  VH.,  280.  The  Pronius  has 
a  Note,  197a,  Bis  ac  ter  pulchra,  shewing  that  this  trick  of 
speech  was  consciously  adopted. 

Besides  these  resemblance  in  thought  and  language, 
there  are  other  points  of  similarity  in  style,  or  tricks  of 
speech  which  deserve  notice. 

I.  The   frequent   use    of    echoing    retort    or    repartee. 

Ex.  gr.  : 

For  Iiell  complain  unto  the  sec  of  Rome. 
Repartee.  Let  liini  complain  unto  the  see  of  hell. 

(I.  i.  190). 

Is  this  the  duty  that  you  owe  your  king  ? 
Repartee.  We  know  our  duties  ;  let  him  know  his  peeis. 

(I.  iv.  22). 

You  that  be  noble-born  should  pity  him. 
Repartee.  You  that  are  princely-born  should  cast  him  off. 

(Ib.'So). 

See  also  I.  iv.  20 ;  160  ;  H.  ii.  86  ;  92  ;  V.  iv.  89. 
Repartees  formed  on  this  model  are  frequent  in  Shake- 
speare:—  Ex.  gr.  : 

Mistrust  of  my  success  hath  done  this  deed. 
Rep. :  Mistrust  of  good  success  hath  done  this  deed. 

{'Jul.  C(cs.  V.  iii.  65). 

Mistake  not,  uncle,  farther  than  you  should. 
Rep.  :  Take  not,  good  cousin,  farther  than  you  should. 
Lest  you  mistake. 

{Rich.  II.  III.  iii.  15). 

There  is  a  large  collection  of  these  in  J^ich.  II.  11.  ii. 
Typical     specimens     are     given     rather     plentifully     in 


SHAKESPEAREAN    RHETORIC.  475 

the  Promus,  shewing  that  Bacon  had  made  a  careful  study 
of  this  rhetorical  and  dramatic  artifice,  which,  however,  is 
not  found  in  his  acknowledged  works.     Ex.  gr.: — 

A  meiT}'  world  when  such  fellows  must  correct. 

Rep. — A  merry  world  when  tlie  simplest  must  correct. 

(No.  1384). 

It  is  not  the  iirst  imtruth  I  have  heard  reported. 

Rep. — It  is  not  the  fust  truth  I  have  heard  denied. 

(No.  1401). 

See  also  Pronms  Nos.  194,  igg,  200,  201,  204-g,  &c. 

2.  Frequent  recurrence  of  the  vivid,  rhetorical  U5e  of 
this,  these  :  the  speaker  referring  to  something  of  his  own, 
generally  his  bodily  organs  of  expression,  action,  or 
emotion,     Ex.  gy.: — 

Witness  this  heart  that  sighing  for  thee  lireaks. 

(I.  iv.  165). 

These  tears  that  drizzle  from  mine  eyes. 

(II.  iv.  18). 

Also  these  hands;  these  eyes;  this  breast;  these  eyelids;  this 
life,  &c.;  and  some  of  these  occur  several  times. 

The  same  habit  is  observable  in  Shakespeare.  Ex.  gr.: — 

This  tongue  hath  parley'd  unto  foreign  kings;  .  .   . 
These  cheeks  are  pale  for  watching  for  your  good;  .  .  . 
These  hands  are  free  from  guiltless  blood-shedding, 
This  breast  from  harbouring  foul,  deceitful  thoughts. 

(2  Hill.  VI.  IV.  vii.  82,  90,  no). 

3.  The  habit  of  beginning  a  scene  by  an  abrupt  ques- 
tion. Thus,— 0  tell  jue,  Spencer,  where  is  Gaveston  ?  (II. 
iv.).  Similarly  in  II.  i. ;  III.  ii.;  V.  vi.  Five  instances 
in  this  play. 

So  in  Shakespeare  we  have: — 

Can  no  man  tell  me  of  my  unthrift}-  son  ? 

{Rich.  II.  V.  iii.  I. 

Wilt  tliou  be  gone  ?     It  is  not  yet  near  day. 

{Rom.  Jul.  III.  V.  r). 


476  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

This  habit  is  chiefly  characteristic  of  the  early  plays, 
Rich.  II.  and  ///.,  i  and  2  and  3  Hen  VI.,  but  it  is  also 
somewhat  frequent  in  other  plays. 

\.  Either  a  new  scene,  or  an  entering  speaker  in  a  new 
section — and  as  the  early  quartos  are  not  always  divided 
into  acts  and  scenes,  these  new  sections  might  be  intended 
for  new  scenes — begins  with  some  expression  of  wonder. 


/  wonder  liow  he  'scaped. 


(II.  iv.  21). 


The  ivind  is  good,     I  wonder  why  he  stays. 

(II.  ii.  i). 

Giirney,  I  wonder  the  king  dies  not. 

(V.  V.  I). 

The  first  of  these  is  almost  identical  with  3  Hen  VI.  I.  i.; 
II.  i.     It  is  slightly  varied  in — 


I  muse  my  lord  of  Gloucester  is  not  come. 

(2  Hen.  VI.  III.  i.  i; 


Also 


I  wonder  if  Titania  be  awaked. 

M.  N.  D.  III.  ii.  1. 

Welcome,  my  lord;  I  marvel  our  mild  husband 

Not  met  us  on  our  way. 

{Lear  IV.  ii.  i). 

5.  There  is  another  curious  trick  of  beginning  a  scene 
(or  a  section  of  a  scene)  by  a  reference  to  the  winds. 

The  wind  is  i^ood;  I  wonder  why  he  •itays. 

(II.  ii.) 

Fair  blows  the  wind  for  France;   blow,  gentle  gale. 

(IV.  i.) 

Now,  lords,  onr  loving  friends  and  counlryineu, 
IVelcoine  to  England  all  with  prosperous  winds. 

(IV.  iv.) 

In  Shakespeare  we  meet  with  similar  cases:— 
My  necessaries  arc  embarked:  farewell. 


SIMILAR    DRAMATIC    SITUATIONS.  477 

And,  sister,  as  the  winds  give  benefit,  &c. 

{Ham.  I.  iii.  i). 

Now  sits  the  wind  fair,  and  we  will  aboard. 

{Hen.  V.  II.  ii.  12). 

The  wind  sits  fair  for  news  to  go  to  Ireland. 

[Rich.  II.  II.  ii.  123). 

6.  The  dramatic  situation  in  Edward  II.  in  many  cases 
anticipates  similar  scenes  in  Shakespeare.  Many  of  these 
have  been  already  noticed  in  the  parallel  passages.  See 
Nos.  2,  4,  12,  33,  43,  67,  68,  76,  78,  8g,  90,  93,  100,  104, 
105,  106.  The  following  may  be  added.  It  will  be  seen  that 
there  are  at  least  20  passages  in  Edward  II.  anticipating 
dramatic  situations  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare. 

(a)  "The  whole  story  of  the  elder  Mortimer  being  taken 
prisoner  and  the  king's  refusal  to  ransom  him,  is  very  like 
the  story  of  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer  in  Wales,  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  IV.,  who  refused  to  ransom  him,  or  allow  of  his 
V3.nsom"  {Tancock).  Not  only  is  the  situation  the  same, 
but  the  indignation  of  Young  Mortimer  in  Edward  II.,  and 
of  Hotspur  in  i  Hen.  IV.  is  expressed  in  almost  identical 
and  those  very  whimsical  terms.     See  parallels  40,  43. 

{b)  The  Queen,  in  Edward  II.  I.  iv.  160,  complains  that 
Gaveston  has  "  robbed  her  of  her  lord;  "  so  Bolingbroke  in 
Rich.  II.  complains  of  Bushey  and  Green  that  they  had 
made  a  divorce  between  the  Queen  and  King  {Rich.  II. 
III.  i.  II.     (T.). 

Doubly  divorced  !     Bad  men,  ye  violate 

A  twofold  marriage;  'twixt  my  crown  and  me, 

And  then  betwixt  me  and  my  married  wife. 

{Rich.  II.  V.  i.  71). 

This  is  a  second  instance  in  the  same  play  of  the  use  of 
this  figure  of  speech. 

(c)  The  reproaches  for  misrule  uttered  in  a  sort  of  anti- 
phonal  style  by  Lancaster  and  the  younger  Mortimer 
(II.  ii.  153 — 195)  cire  much  like  the  reproaches  uttered  in 
succession,  in  the  same  antiphonal  style,  by  Suffolk,  Beau- 


478         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

fort,  &c.,  against  Duke  Humphrey  in  2  Hen  VI.  I,  iii.  127 
— 140.  A  similar  string  of  accusations  is  similarly  recited 
m  Rich.  II.   II.  i.  241—261. 

(d)  In  IV.  V.  40,  Kent  speaks  of  the  fallen  king  as 
"  Edward,"  and  is  rebuked  by  the  young  prince  for  omit- 
ting the  ro3'il  title. 

So  in  Rich.  II.  III.  iii.  10,  York  administers  a  similar 
rebuke  to  Northumberland  for  calling  the  fallen  monarch 
simply  "Richard."     See  75,  8g. 

ie)  The  resemblances  between  Edward  II.  V.  v.  41,  and 
the  murder  scenes  in  3  Hen.  VI.  and  Rich.  III.,  and  the 
snnilar  exclamations  of  apprehension,  are  referred  to  in 
No.  104.  Mr.  Tancock  refers  to  other  points  of  comparison 
which  I  need  not  specify. 

(/")  In  \ .  iv.  and  elsewhere  the  younger  Mortimer  has 
many  of  the  characteristics  of  Rich.  III.  The  most  curious 
is  that  in  both  cases  a  hypocritical  profession  of  reluctance 
to  take  the  protectorate,  or  the  crown,  is  pictured  in  pre- 
cisely similar  outlines — a  sort  of  Nolo  episcopari.     Thus — 

They  thrust  upon  me  the  protectorship, 
And  sue  to  me  for  that  that  I  desire. 
While,  at  the  Council-table,  grave  enough, 
And  not  unlike  a  bashful  puritan; 
First  I  complain  of  imbecilit}', 
Saying  it  is  oiiis  qiiam  i^ravissiminn  ; 
Till,  being  interrupted  by  my  friends, 
Suscepi  that  proviiiciani,  as  they  term  it; 
And,  to  conclude,  I  am  protector  now. 

(V.  iv.  55-63). 

This  recalls  most  forcibly  the  scene  in  which  Richard  is 
found  between  two  bishops,  when  the  Mayor  and  citizens 
seek  to  overcome  his  affected  resistance  to  accept  the 
dignity  which  they  "thrust  upon  "  him.  The  lines  quoted 
evidently  give  the  first  sketch,  or  crude  outline,  of  the  scene 
so  elaborately  worked  out  in  Rich.  III.  Ill,  vii.  95,  etc.  The 
"  bashful  puritan  "  becomes  the  protector  at  his  devotions. 
The  "  imbecility  "  reappears  as  fear  lest  the  citizens  have 


SHAKESPEAREAN   REHEARSALS    IN    MARLOWE.  479 

come  to  "  reprehend  his  ignorance,"  and  in  unctuous  pro- 
fessions of  poverty  of  spirit,  and  of  defects  which  he  uishes 
to  hide.  The  friend  who  interrupts  is  Buckingham,  the 
spokesman  of  the  citizens,  and  at  the  same  time  Richard's 
accompHce  in  the  solemn  mockery.  The  onus  quaiii 
gravissimum  becomes  "the  golden  yoke  of  sovereignty." 
The  repeated  entreaties,  reinforced  by  threats,  break  down 
resistance,  till  "  Susccpi  that  provinciain''  finds  expression 
in  : — 

I  am  not  made  of  stone, 
But  penetrable  to  your  kind  entreats, 
Albeit  against  my  conscience  and  my  soul: 

and  at  last  he  coyly  consents  to  be  crowned. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  neither  of  these  incidents^ 
that  in  Edward  II.  or  Rich.  III. — is  historical. 

This  rehearsal  on  a  reduced  scale  of  a  scene  which  is 
subsequently  expanded  in  another  play,  is  not  infrequent  in 
Shakespeare.  A  similar  Marlowe  anticipation  of  Lear  is 
given  in  No.  2.  Another  very  striking  case  is  in  the  plays 
of  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  and  Merchant  of  Venice.  In 
the  former  play,  Lucetta  (Julia's  maid)  asks  her  mistress 
to  repeat  the  names  of  her  would-be  lovers,  while  she, 
Lucetta,  adds  her  comments  on  each  name  as  it  is  given. 
Exactly  the  same  rehearsal,  with  interposition  of  comment, 
occurs  between  Portia  and  her  maid  Nerissa  in  the  latter 
play:  except  that  the  lady  supplies  the  comment,  not  the 
maid. 

In  the  3rd  Parnassus,  a  scene  of  rehearsal  with  answer- 
ing comment  is  given  with  reference  to  the  most  popular 
poets,  Shakespeare  included.  "Read  the  names,"  is  the 
challenge,  and  the  reply  is,  "  So  I  will,  if  thou  wilt  help  me 
to  censure  them." 

For  another  Shakespearean  rehearsal,  it  may  be  noted 
that  the  Jew  of  Malta  is  generally  admitted  to  be  the 
prophetic  adumbration  of  Shylock. 

As  to  the  passage  from  Marlowe,  commented  upon  in 
this  note  (/),  it  may  be  also  noted  that   Mr.  T.  W.  White 


480  SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

refers  to  Marlowe's  habit  of  "  making  his  villains  confess 
themselves  such,"  as  "  a  characteristic  common  to  him  and 
Shakespeare."  ("Our  English  Homer,"  196).  Barrachio, 
in  Much  Ado,  speaks  of  himself  as  a  villain,  and  his  slander 
of  Hero  as  a  villainy;  and  Proteus,  in  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,  is  equally  frank  in  his  self-depreciation. 

{h)  In  the  following  passage  from  Edward  11.  the  policy 
recommended  to  Baldock  by  young  Spencer  is  very  much 
the  same  as  that  described  in  a  parable  by  the  fool  in  Lear. 

Baldock. — Which  of  the  nobles  doest  thou  mean  to  serve  ? 

Y.  Spencer. — Not  Mortimer,  nor  any  of  his  side. 

Baldock,  learn  this  of  me  :  a  factious  lord 

Shall  hardly  do  liimself  good,  much  less  us. 

But  he  that  hath  the  favour  of  the  King, 

May  with  one  word  advance  us  while  we  live. 

The  liberal  Earl  of  Cornwall  is  the  man 

On  whose  good  fortune  Spencer's  hope  depends. 

{Edw.II.  II.  i.  3— ii)' 

The  same  almost  cynical  worldly  wisdom  is  preached  by 
the  fool : — 

Let  go  thy  hold   when  a  great  wheel  runs  down  a  hill,   lest  it 

break  thy  neck  with  following  it;  but  the  great  one  that  goes  up  the 

hill,  let  him  draw  thee  after. 

{Lcur  II.  iv.  72). 

This  sort  of  calculated  policy  is  of  the  same  complexion 
as  the  arts  and  tricks  described  in  the  Essay  of  "  Cunning," 
and  the  chapters  in  the  De  Augmentis  on  the  "Architecture 
of  Fortune." 

I  have  now  given  such  a  collection  of  similarities  of  very 
various  kinds  between  Marlowe's  Edw.  II.,  and  the  Shake- 
speare plays  and  poems,  as  suffice,  in  my  view,  to  prove 
identity  of  authorship.  I  have  by  no  means  exhausted  the 
list  ;  any  careful  investigator  may  find  others  which  I  have 
omitted.  I  have  given  those  which  seem  to  me  unequivocal, 
and  left  out  many  which  may  be  real  resemblances,  but 
which  I  prefer  to  omit  rather  than  expose  them  as  weak 


ALL   THE   PLAYS    SUPPLY    MARLOWE    PARALLELS.      481 

points  to  hostile  criticism.  The  conclusion  ap,^ears  to  be, 
that  if  we  had  to  decide  upon  the  authorship  of  Edw.  II. 
from  internal  evidence  alone,  no  one  would  hesitate  for  a 
moment  to  assign  it  to  Shakespeare.  The  chief  reason  for 
admitting  Marlowe  is  that  his  name  appears  on  the  title 
pages  of  the  early  quartos  :  a  reason  strong,  if  taken  alone, 
but  quite  capable  of  being  overruled  if  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  are  duly  estimated.  I  may  even  claim  that  the 
appearance  of  another  name  on  a  composition  so  evidently 
Shakesperian,  and  on  other  works, — as  for  instance  the  1616 
Edition  of  Fatistiis,  in  which  Christopher  Marlowe's 
authorship  is  historically  impossible, — casts  a  shade  of 
suspicion  on  all  the  other  Shakesperian  title  pages,  and 
sets  speculation  as  to  authorship  absolutely  free. 

Doubtless  a  large  proportion  of  these  similarities  is 
derived  from  the  Hen.  VI.  plays,  which  some  critics  regard 
as  non-Shakespearian.  But  they  are  not  confined  to  these 
plays — the  aggregate  of  these  is  not  even  a  majority  of  the 
parallels.  If  all  the  similarities  derived  from  i,  2  and  3 
Hen.  VI.  were  left  out,  I  hardly  think  the  case  would  be 
materially  weakened.  The  case  is,  I  believe,  proved 
without  them,  and  we  may  use  these  parallels  in  a  sort  of 
alternative  way  to  prove  identity  of  authorship  for  the  dis- 
puted play,  whichever  it  may  be.  Only  about  one-fifth  of 
the  entire  collection  is  from  these  three  plays,  and  of  these 
only  one  in  seven  is  from  i  Hen.  VI.  ;  the  rest  are  from  the 
2nd  and  3rd  parts:  i.e.,  the  passages  taken  from  i  Hen.  VI. 
are  about  one-third  the  number  of  those  taken  from  either 
2nd  or  3rd  ;  the  numbers  may  be  roughly  taken  as  12,  36 
and  36.  Looking  at  the  whole  collection,  it  will  be  found 
that  the  number  taken  from  i  Hen.  VI.  is  about  half  the 
number  taken  from  either  Rich.  II.  or  Rich.  III.,  and  about 
the  same  as  those  from  Tw.  G.  V.  ;  Cymh. ;  Troilus ; 
Tit.  A.  ;  Rom.  J.  ;  and  Hamlet.  Next  to  these  in  rank 
come  John;  i  and  2  Hen.  IV.;  Hen.  V.;  L.  L.  L.  ; 
Tarn.  Sh.  ;  Jul.  C,  and  Lear.  The  rest  of  the  resemblances 
are  pretty  equally  distributed  amongst  the  other  plays  and 

HH 


482         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

poems,  the  lowest  rank  being  assigned  to  Mer.   W.,  Timon, 
0th.,  and  the  Sonnets.     See  Index  I. 

As  Edward  II.  is  a  historical  play,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  the  preponderance  of  evidence  should 
be  drawn  from  the  historical  plays,  and,  out  of 
these,  from  those  that  were  written  first.  There  is  a 
marked  difference  between  Shakespeare's  early,  middle  and 
latest  styles— and  of  course  Ediv.  II.  belongs  to  the 
earliest— to  the  period  when  those  plays  were  written,  ■ 
which  because  they  possess  the  characteristics  of  the  early, 
i.e.,  the  Marlowe  period,  have  been  attributed  to  Marlowe. 
And  it  is  remarkable  that  of  the  three  parts  of  Hen.  VI.,  the 
resemblances  are  most  numerous  in  those  which  are  most 
characteristically  Shakesperian,  and  less  numerous  in  the 
first  and  feeblest  member  of  the  group.  It  seems  to  me, 
on  reviewing  the  whole  case,  that  Edw.  II.  is  far  more 
Shakespearian  than  i  Hen.  VI.,  and  the  evidence  for  Shake- 
speare's authorship  much  stronger,  apart  from  its  inclusion 
in  the  1623  Folio, 

If  one  of  the  Marlowe  plays  can  be  satisfactorily  proved 
to  be  Shakesperean.  all  may  be  equally  so.  Consequentl}^ 
all  the  reasoning  that  has  been  expended  on  the  proof  that 
certain  plays  in  the  Folio  are  Marlowe's  is  disposed  of, 
w^ith  the  result  of  handing  over  these  proofs  and  arguments 
to  the  support  of  our  case.  To  my  mind  the  elaborate 
dissection  of  2  and  3  Hen.  VI.,  in  which  about  one-third 
part  of  the  whole  is  given  to  Marlowe,  and  the  rest  to 
Shakespeare — with  a  few  pickings  left  for  Peele,  Nash, 
Greene,  and  others — confutes  itself.  It  is  antecedently 
most  unlikely  that  the  Shakesperian  poet  would  condescend 
to  dress  up  old  plays  and  publish  them  as  his  own,  or  to 
run  in  harness  with  a  miscellaneous  company  of  hack 
writers,  or  dramatists  of  immensely  inferior  rank.  The 
existence  of  a  variety  of  styles  in  such  a  master  of  dramatic 
and  literary  art  is  surely  not  surprising,  and  the  Marlowe 
style  is  so  decidedly  present  in  Shakespeare  that  it  is  just 
as  logical  to  use  its  evidence  for  purposes  of  inclusion  as 
for  exclusion,  i.e.,  to  prove  that  the  poet  of  Shakespeare  is 


THE    SPHERE    OF   SHAKESPEARE.  483 

the  poet  of  Marlowe,  as  that  Marlowe  wrote  Shakespeare. 
And  if  Mr,  Fleay's  criterion  of  identical  authorship  may  be 
accepted  as  sufficient  to  identify  the  author  of  Edw.  II. 
with  that  oi  Hen.  VI.,  evidently  the  much  larger  extension 
of  the  same  argument,  which  I  have  now  presented, 
reverses  the  direction  of  the  logical  current,  and  brings 
Edw.  II.  into  the  Shakespeare  enclosure,  instead  of 
thrusting  Hen.  VI.  outside. 

I  have  said  that  I  do  not  attach  much  importance  for 
argumentative  purposes  to  the  sipping,  tasting,  lip-smacking 
process  which  is  so  freely  used  in  the  valuation  of  these 
early  plays.  It  might  appear  about  as  reasonable  to  study 
anatomy  by  the  taste,  as  to  dissect  a  play  by  the  use  simply 
of  literary  sensation  or  sentiment.  However  this  may  be, 
I  can  in  this  case  very  confidently  appeal  to  what,  in 
humble  imitation  of  Bacon,  I  may  call  the  logic  of  the 
palate,  as  a  matter  of  incommunicable  individual  percep- 
tion. I  would  challenge  anyone  who  has  made  Shake- 
speare a  stud}'  and  a  companion,  who  knows  his  voice, 
recognises  his  features,  feels  his  presence — to  listen  to  the 
tones,  look  at  the  features,  weigh  the  pressure  of  the  touch 
— as  these  indescribable  personal  characteristics  manifest 
themselves  in  Edw.  II.,  and  to  seiy  whether  here  also  we 
have  not  the  tones,  the  features,  the  hand-pressure,  the 
personal  sphere  of  Shakespeare  himself. 

Here  I  cannot  forbear  adding  a  remarkable  confirmation 
of  this  instinctive  recognition  of  Shakespeare  behind  this 
mask  in  the  estimate  of  Marlowe,  given  by  Mr.  J.  Russell 
Lowell.  I  claim  these  words  as  an  extension  of  my  argument. 

"  Not  only  do  I  think  that  Shakespeare  caught  some 
hints  from  him,  but  there  are  certain  descriptive  passages 
and  similes  of  the  greater  poet,  which,  whenever  I  read 
them,  instantly  bring  Marlowe  to  my  mind.  This  is  an 
impression  I  might  find  it  hard  to  convey  to  another,  or 
even  to  make  definite  to  myself;  but  it  is  an  old  one, 
and  constantly  repeats  itself,  so  that  I  put  some  con- 
fidence   in    it.      Marlowe's   Edward   II.    certainly  served 


484         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

Shakespeare  as  a  model  for  his  carher  historical  plays. 
Of  course,  he  surpassed  his  model,  but  Marlowe  might 
have  said  of  him  as  Oderisi,  with  pathetic  modesty, 
said  to  Dante  of  his  rival  and  surpasser,  Franco  of  Bologna, 
'  The  praise  is  now  all  his,  yet  mine  in  part.'"  After  a 
long  quotation  from  Edw.  II.  V.  i.  57 — iii,  the  genial 
critic  thus  expresses  his  rapture.  "  Surely  one  might  fancy 
that  to  be  from  the  prentice  hand  of  Shakespeare.  It  is  no 
small  distinction  that  this  can  be  said  of  Marlowe,  for  it 
can  be  said  of  no  other.'' 

As  to  Mr.  Lowell's  recognition  of  what  might  be  from 
the  prentice  hand  of  Shakespeare,  there  is  no  question  that 
the  same  contrast  exists  between  the  earlier  writings, 
admitted  to  be  Shakespeare's,  and  the  later  gigantic 
dramas.  And  the  contrast  is  so  great  that  critics  have 
often  parcelled  out  the  Shakespeare  plays  among  different 
craftsmen,  thinking  it  impossible  that  works  of  so  unequal 
power  and  merit  can  all  proceed  from  the  same  hand.  And 
yet,  in  truth,  it  is  not  unusual  for  the  greatest  masters  in 
any  art  to  begin  their  own  creative  course  by  crude  imita- 
tions of  their  predecessors.  For  instance,  the  earlier 
compositions  of  Beethoven,  beautiful  as  they  are,  are  not 
imitations  indeed,  but  compositions  in  which  the  influence 
of  Mozart  and  Haydn  are  predominant.  The  almost 
measureless  chasm  between  the  Nel  cor  pin  variations,  or 
the  two  easy  sonatas  in  Opus  49,  and  the  tremendous 
choral  symphony,  or  the  Titanic  sonatas  of  the  third 
period,  is  even  greater  than  that  between  the  immaturity 
of  Edw.  II.  or  I  Hen.  VI.  and  the  mystic  grandeur  of 
Hamlet  and  Lear.  Every  great  artist  must  emancipate 
himself  from  servile  imitation  of  his  predecessors  before  he 
can  enter  upon  the  franchise  of  his  original  genius.  The 
sublimest  intellect  must  at  one  time  write  pothooks  and 
scribble  copy-book  platitudes.  In  Shakespeare's  latest 
efforts  he  not  only  surpassed  all  other  poets,  he  surpassed 
himself  by  a  seemingly  impassable  gulf. 

With  these  precedents  and  this  canon  of  judgment  in 


RIVALRY    BETWEEN    TWO   PLAYS.  485 

view,  it  is  not  difficult  to  admit  that  in  some  respects  the 
drama  of  Edw.  II.  has  been  overpraised,  and  its  Shake- 
spearean eminence  overstated.  It  has  been  said,  for 
instance,  that  Edw.  II.  is  equal  or  even  superior  to 
Rich.  II.,  which  it  most  resembles,  and  superior  in  merit 
to  the  general  level  of  the  Hen.  VI.  plays.  Now,  while  I 
am  willing  to  admit  that,  in  general  scenic  effect,  in  the 
management  of  dialogue,  in  discrimination  of  character,  in 
the  use  of  blank  verse,  it  may  hold  its  own  with  any  of  the 
historical  plays,  it  seems  to  me  decidedly  inferior  to  all  of 
them  (except  perhaps  i  Hen.  VI.),  in  richness  of  imagina- 
tion, in  splendour  of  eloquence,  in  the  freedom  and  abandon 
of  inexhaustible  mental  and  imaginative  wealth,  and  in 
general  wisdom  and  sagacity  as  an  embodiment  of  social, 
political  and  psychologic  philosophy.  There  are  flashes  of 
all  these  qualities;  but  there  are  no  passages  in  which  they 
are  so  strong,  so  sustained,  so  triumphant,  as  in  the  later 
historic  plays.  For  example,  there  is  nothing  in  Edw  II. 
comparable  to  the  poetic  and  patriotic  laments  of  York 
and  Gaunt  over  the  disgraces  brought  upon  their  country 
by  thelevity  and  weakness  of  theking  {Rich.  II.  II.  i.  30-138). 
The  judgment  of  Charles  Lamb,  that  "the  death  scene  of 
Marlowe's  king  moves  pity  and  terror  beyond  any  scene, 
ancient  or  modern,  with  which  I  am  acquainted,"  is 
quoted  by  all  the  critics;  and  it  is,  on  the  whole,  a  just 
and  a  discerning  criticism.  Yet,  to  my  mind,  there  is 
nothing  in  Edw.  II.  quite  so  thrilling  in  its  pathetic  dignity 
as  the  mighty  speech  in  which  Richard  II.  pronounces  his 
own  abdication,  containing  such  lines  as  these: — 

With  mine  own  tears  I  wash  away  my  bahii; 
With  mine  own  hands  I  give  away  my  crown; 
With  mine  own  tongue  deny  my  sacred  state; 
With  mine  own  breath  release  all  duteous  oaths; 
All  pomp  and  majesty,  I  do  forswear,  &c.,  &c. 

See  the  whole  passage  Rich.  II.  l\ .  i.  201 — 318.  And 
in  nearly  every  scene  of  Rich.  II.  there  are  passages 
of  exuberant  poetic  meditation  not  to  be  matched  in 
Edw.  II.      There  is  a  lavish  eloquence    in    a   crowd    of 


486         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

speeches  in  Rich.  II.  only  faintly  adumbrated  in  Edw.  II., 
speeches  which  one  may  almost  pick  out  at  random  by 
selecting  those  which  contain  over  twenty  or  thirty  line?. 
There  are  not  many  such  speeches  in  Edw.  II.  In  the 
whole  play  there  are  only  eight  speeches  of  more  than  20 
lines  in  length,  and  only  two  of  33  lines  each,  and  these 
two  follow  one  another,  and  with  a  shorter  intermediate 
speech  may  be  taken  as  one  of  75  lines  (V.  i.  5 — •^3).  If 
we  add  together  all  the  speeches  through  the  whole  play, 
which  contain  ten  lines  or  more,  they  only  amount  to 
just  under  500  lines,  whilst  the  3rd  Act  of  Rich.  II., 
which  is  equal  to  about  a  quarter  of  Edw.  II.  {i.e.,  675 
lines,  against  2,606),  alone  contains  342  such  lines.  As 
a  test,  this  is  doubtless  too  mechanical  to  be  in  itself 
sufficient;  but  it  really  does  put  in  visible  and  numerical 
shape  the  fact  that  Edw.  II.  lacks  the  luxuriance  of 
imaginative  musing  that  belongs  so  abundantly  to  Rich.  II. 
Its  dialogue  is  vivid  and  interesting,  without  being 
rhetorical  or  philosophical;  the  speeches  are  short,  there 
is  little  monologue,  and  scarcely  any  soliloquy;  perhaps 
it  is  on  this  account  better  adapted  to  scenic  representation 
than  Rich.  II.,  which  would  require  much  more  curtailment 
before  it  could  be  presented  on  the  boards.  The  generous 
affluence  that  seems  as  though  it  could  not  restrain  itself, 
but  must  pour  forth  in  copious  discourse  its  limitless 
treasures  of  thought  and  fancy  and  imagery,  does  not 
exist  in  Edw.  II.  to  the  same  extent  as  in  nearly  all  the 
subsequent  Shakespearean  plays  and  poems.  The  musing 
soliloquy  of  Richard  in  Pomfret  Castle  (V.  v.  i — 65)  is 
twice  as  long  as  the  longest  speech  in  Edw.  II.  And 
yet,  in  admitting  this,  I  do  not  feel  that  any  shadow  of 
doubt  is  cast  upon  its  genuine  Shakespearean  origin.  It 
is  the  early  production  of  a  strong,  but  untutored,  mind, 
full  of  large  promise;  but  the  master  is  not  yet  conscious 
of  his  powers.  The  play  is  tentative,  sketchy,  fragmentary. 
No  one  but  the  poet  of  Rich.  II.  could  have  written  it;  but 
such  a  poet,    in  collecting  his  works,  would  be  likely  to 


SHAKESPEARE  NOT  YET  FULLY  GROWN.      487 

cast  it  aside  after  the  mightier  achievements  of  riper  years 
had  made  its  deficiencies  too  conspicuous.  Here  the  poet 
is  fettered;  he  has  not  quite  escaped  from  the  sphere  of 
Tamburlaine  and  the  Jew  of  Malta;  he  is  evidently  trying 
to  abandon  their  crudities,  and  emancipate  himself  from 
their  bombast  and  extravagance,  and  the  effort  to  do  so 
makes  him  at  times  somewhat  tame.  For,  as  Mr.  C. 
Knight — for  his  own  purposes — shows,  he  cannot  quite  put 
aside  those  tawdry  robes;  they  cling  to  him  still,  reappear- 
ing in  detached  fragments,  a  few  lines  at  a  time — enough 
to  link  his  personal  identity  to  that  manifested  in  the 
earlier  plays,  but  enough,  also,  to  show  that  he  was 
approaching  a  new  era,  and  was  about  to  develop  another 
type  of  art. 

One  of  the  indications  that  the  poet  of  Edw.  II.  (i.e., 
Bacon)  had  not  attained  his  poetic  majority,  is  the  absence 
of  those  legalisms  which  afterwards  became  so  abundant 
and  characteristic.  The  poet  of  Tamburlaine  is  still 
cloistered  in  his  etherial  Parnassus  ;  he  has  not  come  com- 
pletely into  contact,  as  a  poet,  with  the  ordinary  life 
around  him  ;  the  pursuits  and  interests  of  his  own  life  have 
not  yet  been  drawn  into  the  poetic  sphere  of  his  activity, 
so  as  to  manifest  themselves  in  the  creations  of  his  art. 

I  find  it  difficult  to  understand  how  any  reasonable  and 
candid  student  can  resist  the  force  of  the  arguments  now 
produced  to  prove  identity  of  authorship  for  Marlowe's 
Edw.  II.,  and  the  Shakespeare  plays.  The  argument  is,  I 
submit,  definite,  restricted,  textual  ;  and  it  is  no  answer  to 
say  that  the  same  results  might  be  obtained  if  a  similar 
analysis  were  employed  for  any  other  Elizabethan  play. 
This  is  certainly  not  the  case.  Any  one  who  brings 
forward  this  objection  is  bound  to  substantiate  it  in  detail, 
and  not  content  himself  with  vague  generalities.  There  is, 
however,  little  chance  that  the  argument  for  Edw.  II.  can 
be  thus  discredited.  For  it  is  already  admitted  that  the 
play  has  an  exceptional  position,  and  in  making  the  claim 
for  it  which  I  have  now  presented,  nothing  more  is  really 


488         SHAKESPEARE    STUDIES    IN    BACONIAN    LIGHT. 

attempted  than  to  give  an  intelligible  interpretation  and 
explanation  of  the  doubts,  difficulties,  and  speculations 
which  it  has  already  started,  and  to  suggest  a  solution 
which  would  probably  have  been  adopted  long  ago,  if 
these  not  very  recondite  facts  had  been  allowed  to  speak 
for  themselves.  This  they  can  never  do  while  the  current 
unrevised  theory  of  the  authorship  of  Shakespeare  is  not 
only  allowed  to  pass  unchallenged,  but  is  raised  to  an 
unassailable  eminence  which  no  one  may  dispute  without 
manifold  pains  and  penalties.  The  Baconian  theory  alone 
gives  a  clear  and  comprehensive  explanation  of  the  many 
anomalies  connected  with  the  publication  and  the  interior 
characteristics  of  all  these  poems,  and  in  this  respect  it 
holds  the  field  without  a  rival. 

It  is  a  small  demand  that  we  make  on  Elizabethan 
students  that  they  should  use  the  Baconian  theory  as  a 
working  hypothesis  to  unlock  all  these  mysteries  and  reduce 
the  chaos  of  their  criticism  to  law  and  order.  This  is  the 
recognised  method  of  scientific  investigation  and  discovery. 
If  this  explanation  does  not  fit  the  phenomena,  let  it  be 
abandoned.  But  if  it  throws  light  upon  dark  places  ;  if  it 
solves  difficult  problems  which,  resist  all  other  methods  of 
solution  ;  if  it  harmonises  contradictory  and  perplexing 
facts  ;  if  it  supersedes  strained  arguments,  and  fantastic 
guesses  or  speculations,  and  weeds  out  all  the  pcrhapses 
which  inflated  Shakespearian  biography,  and  despairing 
Shakespearian  criticism,  so  urgently  require,  and  so 
copiously  employ  ;  if  it  connects  these  marvellous  creations 
of  genius  with  the  best  culture  of  their  own  time,  instead 
of  leaving  them  detached,  in  solitary  miraculous  isolation, 
to  be  worshipped  blindly,  like  the  image  which  fell  from 
Jupiter, — then  let  it  be  welcomed  as  it  deserves,  and  let 
the  fruitful  field  of  criticism,  illustration,  and  illumination 
which  it  opens  be  diligently  explored  and  faithfully 
cultivated. 


INDEX     I. 

Shakespeare  Quotations. 


Airs    Well. 


Aot 
I 


III 


IV 


sc. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 

i. 

i. 

i 

i. 

i. 

i. 

1. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 

V. 

i. 

iii. 

V. 

iv. 

V. 

iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 


line 
12 

15 

46 

48 

96 

239 

15 

41 

67 

97 

158 

207 


232 

238 

5 

15 
58 
91 
145 
152 
180 
192 

10 
7 

35 
173 

189 

296 
30 
17 
10 
58 
35 
63 
34 
57 
73 

305 


page 
...  183 
...  108 
...  372 
...  283 
...  193 
...  183 
...  250 
...  350 
...  304 
...  115 
...  445 
...  152 
...  324 
...  376 
...  363 
...  336 
...  315 
...  395 
...  346 
...  84 
...  103 
...  183 
...  183 
...  312 
...  317 
...  448 
...  86 
...  355 
...  411 
...  3.50 
...  397 
...  250 
...  437 
...  251 
...  220 
282 
."."."  357 
...  263 
...  34« 
...  .305 
...  346 
...  352 


Antony  and 
Cleopatra 


I. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iv. 
iv. 


1  .. 

(i  .. 

42  .. 

56  .. 

137  .. 

45  .. 

63  .. 
•>■> 

36  '.'. 


1)0 
398 
2211 
220 
304 
391 
301 
328 
465 


Antony  and 
Cleopatra  —  contd. 


Act 

sc 

1 

iv. 

V. 

II 

ii. 

,, 

V. 

t1 

vi. 

,, 

vii 

»' 

vii. 

\ii 

Iii 

i 

« 

V 

n 

vii 

i» 

vii 

i» 

X. 

,, 

xi 

,, 

xii 

)» 

xiii 

,, 

xiii 

IV 

iii 

Ii 

xii 

xiv. 

,, 

xiv 

V 

i 

11 

ii 

,, 

ii 

,, 

ii 

,. 

ii 

,j 

ii 

„ 

ii 

39 


line 
41  . 
10 

3 

43 

102 

1 
29 
83 
11 

4 
42 

2'i 

145 

12 

31 

153 

2 

4 

...  3 

62 

1 

27 
82 
172 
2(111 
216 
3U6 


page 
..  304 
..  412 
..  22(1 
..  212 
,..  185 
...  390 
..  311 
,..  317 
...  226 
...  410 
...  77 
...  348 
...  220 
...  237 
...  317 
...  190 
...  47 
...  346 
...  55 
U  bis. 
...  352 
...  3.58 
...  275 
...  208 
...  271 
...  375 
...  263 
...  377 


As  You  Like  It. 


U 


111 


1. 

ii. 

ii. 
iv. 
iv. 
i  V. 
iv. 
iv. 
i  V. 

V. 

vi. 
vii. 
vii. 
vii. 
vii. 
vii. 
i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 


21 

5 

44 

9 

11 

26-tiO 
44 
68 
94 
21 

41-(il 

18 

42 

75 

1(»S 

13; 

;i 

611 

69 
137 
201 
24U 


358 
217 
190 
103 
2()l) 
15(1 
241 

69 
3.36 
380 
113 
205 
177 
447 
111 

71 
317 
175 
2(12 
388 
350 

9(1 
467 


As  Yott  Like  It — 
contd. 


Act 
III 


IV 


sc. 

ii. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iv. 

V. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
iii. 
iii. 
i  V. 
iv. 

IV. 


line 

392 
420 

"7 
29 
16 
54 
32 
145 
211 
16 
35 
ti5 

111 

143 


page 

..  151 

..  151 

..  2(j8 

..  323 

..  254 

..  325 

..  296 

..  279 

..  203 

..  324 

..  312 

..  KiO 

..  205 

..  113 

..  84 


Comedy  of  Errors, 


II 


III 


1. 
i. 
i. 
i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
i. 
i. 

ji, 

ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 

i. 

i. 


32 

63 
67 
91 
28 
173 
175 

53 
44 
53 

J8 

24 

48 

55 

115 

1()7 

241 

270 


1 


Coriolanus. 


II 


.1. 

i. 

i. 
iii. 
iv. 
ix. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 


215 

267 

275 

94 

39 

24 

161 

247 

121 

128 
17 
42 
43 

237 


.302 
374 
302 
469 
277 
351 
301 
63 
451 
380 
451 
116 
192 
438 
162 
270 
146 
388 
442 


358 
226 
312 
405 
237 
234 
115 
115 
319 
.3.56 
18(1 
374 
442 
346 
310 


Coriolanus—  contd. 

Act      sc. 
Ill        ii. 


IV 


II 


III 


IV 


111. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
vi. 
vi. 
vii. 
iii. 
iii. 
vi. 
vi. 


line     page 

62  ...  347 
43 


I 

15 

51 

143 

147 

54 

70 

119 


Cymbeline. 


1. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
iv. 
iv. 

V. 

vi. 
vi. 
vi. 
i. 
iii. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 

V. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iv. 

V. 

V. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
iii. 

iv. 
iv. 

v. 

v. 


44 

48 

77 

152 

170 

100 

103 

45 

16 

122 

165 

48 

25 

80 

107 

Ir.l 

11 

49 

16 
45-.55 
45-70 
56 
39 
45 
12 

20 

39 

59 

274 

276 

HOG 

372 

•)•) 

206 

146 

29 

29 

93 

II 


346 
316 
304 
219 
282 
221 
206 
369 
346 


15  ...  391 
103  ...  333 


..  206 

..  118 

..  369 

..  460 

..  443 

..  325 

..  338 

..  463 

..  83 

..  352 

..  310 

..  345 

..  267 
122 

'.'.  236 

..  389 

..  395 

..  239 

..  411 

..  356 

..  468 

..  46 

..  116 

..  232 

..  375 

..  261 

..  454 

..  255 

..  358 

..  301 

..  332 

..  .352 

..  205 

..  3^2 

..  343 

..  442 

..  401 

..  461 

..  197 

..  161 


490 


SHAKESPEARE  QUOTATIONS. 


Cymbeline—  contd. 


Act 

sc. 

lin-i 

V 

V. 

199 

■» 

V. 

3G2 

V. 

305 

V. 

3(i9 

^ 

V. 

407 

^ 

V. 

•J-J9 

» 

V. 

473 

Hamlet. 

I 

i. 

5G 

j. 

114 

1) 

i. 
i. 
i. 

118 

" 

i. 

1» 

*) 

I. 
ii. 

U 

ii. 

17 

ii. 

36 

ii. 

79 

^ 

ii. 

136 

11 

ii. 

192 

ii. 

•105 

1) 

ii. 

248 

i  i. 

1 

,^ 

iii. 

9 

iii. 

10 

iii. 

22 

_, 

iii. 

41 

iii. 

7.5 

J, 

iii. 

78 

.J 

iii. 

1:^9 

») 

iv. 

17 

iv. 

27 

V. 

.59 

„ 

V. 

61 

V. 

64 

^^ 

V. 

162 

^, 

V. 

17(1 

V. 

188 

l"l 

i. 
i. 
i. 

44 
116 
311 

j'^' 

i. 

End 

,^ 

ii. 

86 

„ 

ii. 

1(14 

ii. 

1.57 

•1 

ii. 

2(17 

ii. 
ii. 

304 
410 

. 

ii. 

4t;i 

^ 

ii. 

491 

^^ 

ii. 

511 

in. 

11 

III 

i. 
i. 
1. 

79 

Itii 

'1 

i. 

i. 

163 
1(54 

i. 

166 

iii. 

17-23 

iv. 

45 

t» 

iv. 

147 

iv. 

KiO 

IV 

iv. 

17 

., 

iv. 

27 

iv. 

32 

^^ 

iv. 

36 

., 

iv. 

60 

t» 

iv. 

64 

'  *1 

V. 

5 

patje 

..  4U7 

..  394 

..  83 

..  314 

..  460 

..  327 

..  448 


405 
309 
368 
331 
350 
355 
394 
258 
259 
340 
411 
o78 
84 
320 
411 
477 
410 
464 
.325 
360 
248 
220 
361 
228 
2.52 
187 
463 
238 
163 
119 
259 
331 
237 
237 
317 
353 
.388 
169 
299 
393 
401 
379 
399 
444 
252 
300 
468 
118 

:uo 

244 
2(i8 
41  iH 
335 
241 
IKi 
282 
241 
370 
307 
360 
3a5 
44 


Hamlet — contd. 


.\ct 
IV 


III 


IV 


sc. 

V. 
V. 
V. 

vii. 
vii. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 


line 

7 
178 
215 
11 
150 
115 

iiii; 

201 

209 

277 

(J 

58 
124 


VMS 
.347 
358 


page 
...  327 
...  349 
...  384 
...  193 
...  124 
...  357 
...  208 
...  299 
...  371 
...  185 
...  2(i9 
...  373 
...  361 
...  405 
...  412 
...  21)0 
...  2(i5 
...  463 


Henry  IV. 
221  ... 


11 


11. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 

i. 

i. 
iii. 
iii. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 

i. 

ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 
ill. 
iv. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
iv. 


100  ... 

133  ... 

209  ... 

219  ... 

43  ... 

l-;i8  Z 

40-120  ... 

19  ... 

29J  ... 

427  Z 

180  ... 

39  90  ... 

50  ... 

.56  ... 

(;9  ... 

92  ... 

24  ... 

127  ... 

31  ... 

()7  ... 

249  ... 

15  ... 

49  ... 

.54  ... 

63  ... 


2  Henry  IV. 


Induction 


II 


1. 

i. 

i.' 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

iii. 

iii. 

iii. 

iii 

iii. 

iii. 

iii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

i  I. 


18  ... 

15  ... 

35  ... 

47  ... 

00  ... 

129  ... 

145  ... 

153  ... 

1,S5  ... 

-85  ... 


37 
27-02 
58 
84 
37  108 
51 


(h1 


91 
121 
338 
3S4 
273 
449 

63 
451 
284 
134 

49 
263 
4.52 
448 
228 

92 
115 
114 
278 
219 
314 
312 
251 
442 
265 
193 
311 
399 
192 


21 
.30,3 
454 
300 
467 
443 
252 
442 

57 
101 
104 
375 
438 
390 
409 

22 
240 
461 
384 
319 


2  Henry  IV. — contd. 


Act 

II 


III 


IV 


It 


III 


IV 


sc. 

iii. 

iii. 

iv. 

i  V. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

iii. 

iv. 

iv. 

iv. 

iv. 

i  V. 

v. 

v. 

v. 

V. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 


line 
21 

58 

211 

247 

0 

80 

10 

53 

SO 

185 

47 

175 

35 

32 

58 

7(1 

118 

82 

118 

118-13S 

210 

72 

76 

End 

33 

46 
73 
128 
141 
143 
347 


Henry  V. 


Cho 

•us 

5 

i. 

3") 

i. 
i. 
i. 
i. 
i. 
i. 

47 

51 
55 
00 

i. 
i. 

65 
273 

ii. 

9 

ii. 

145.1.54 

ii. 

180 

-213 

ii. 

, 

ii. 

ii. 
i. 
i. 

'l80 

22 

130 

ii. 

12 

ii. 

25 

ii. 

102 

ii. 

Chorus 

13 

1.3; 


VI. 

vi. 
\  i. 
vi. 
vii. 
vii. 
Chorus 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 


4.3 
27-40 
127 
12S 
;,  etc 
08 
131 
0 
0 
13 
37 
113 
30 


p;iKe 

...  119 

...  396 

...  4(i9 

...  2,38 

...  180 

...  249 

...  289 

...  2.51 

...  374 

...  332 

...  410 

...  322 

...  353 

...  411 

...  240 

...  461 

...  176 

...  380 

...  346 

...  380 

...  262 

...  250 

...  405 

...  329 

...  121 

...  280 

...  451 

...  230 

...  389 

...  310 

...  319 

...  332 

...  265 


..  219 

..  333 

..  49 

..  86 

..  244 

..  124 

...  278 

,..  196 

...  338 

...  276 

...  .397 

...  204 

...  290 

...  298 

...  320 

,..  329 

,..  58 

...  3,57 

...  477 

...  4()5 

...  90 

,..  2(55 

..  40 

..  171! 

,..  40« 

..  439 

...  201 

...  t)9 

..  25 

..  205 

..  412 

..  204 

..  71 

..  277 


Henry  V.—  contd. 


Act 
IV 


fC. 

iii. 

V. 

Chorus 

i. 

ii. 
ii. 

ii. 
ii. 
ii. 

V. 


line 

24 

7 

1 

ii 

41 

14 

35 

61 

63 

87 

11 


page 

..  257 

..  386 

..  170 

..  275 

..  282 

..  2:35 

..  457 

,.  339 

..  396 

..  332 

..  134 


Henry  VI. 
35  ... 


II 


HI 


IV 


1. 
iii. 
vi. 

i. 
iv. 

V. 

i. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 

i. 

i. 
iii. 

v. 

i. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iv. 

V. 
V. 


II 

iii 


31  ... 
6  ... 

U  ... 

92  ... 

8  ... 

110  ... 

23  ... 

25  ... 

28  ... 

30  ... 

94  ... 

28  ... 

32  ... 
13  ... 


.35 
120 

107 


Henry 

.32  ... 

123  ... 

105  ... 

251  ... 

1  ... 

9  ... 

11  ... 

31  ... 

47  ... 

53  ... 

83  ... 

127-140  ... 

170  ... 

4  ... 

5  ... 
28  ... 
86  ... 

1   ... 


282 
408 


1. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 
ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
i  V. 
i  V. 
iii. 
iv. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 


16 

34 

158 

182 

228 

282 

310 

313 

51 

97 

113 

290 

321-4 

351 

400 


4()6 
394 
206 
403 
351 
3.52 
392 
354 
•$.54 
469 
3.55 
399 
441 
454 
359 
38li 
409 
443 
443 
■141 
134 
4ti6 


VI. 


334 
439 
4.52 
436 
440 
397 
207 
447 
234 
466 
447 
478 
355 
352 
221 
4.52 
451 
476 
472 
439 
326 
207 
206 
232 
450 
326 
232 
235 
4.54 
467 
443 
236 
442 
445 


SHAKESPEARE   QUOTATIONS. 


491 


2  Henry  VI. — contd. 


Act      sc. 

III  Hi. 

IV  i. 

ii. 
„  vii. 
„  vii. 
„  vii. 
„       vii. 

vii. 
,,       vii. 

vii. 

viii. 
,,        ix. 

X. 

V.         i. 

i- 
ii. 
iii. 


line 

83 

11 

120 

182 

1011 

63-110 

77 

«2 
87 
90 

110 

57 

8 

61 

•SO 

175 
41 
19 


..  457 

..  347 

..  4.50 

..  75 

..  381 

..  48 

..  392 

..  447 

..  475 

..  207 

..  475 

..  475 

..  21 

..  371 

..  439 

..  275 

..  399 

..  .392 

..  3(30 


3  Rmrij  VI. 


H 


III 


IV 


]. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 
iii. 
iv. 
iv. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

V. 

vi. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

iii. 

iii. 

ii. 

iii. 

iv. 

vi. 

vii. 

vii. 

viii. 

viii. 

viii. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

iii. 

i  V. 

\  i. 

vi. 

vi. 

vi. 


1  ... 

60  ... 
95  ... 

180  ... 

239  ... 

242  ... 

271  ... 

61  ... 

14  ... 

28  ... 
133  ... 

1  ... 

60  '". 

91  ... 

120  ... 

127  ... 

32  ... 

29  ... 

187  ... 

188  ... 
192  ... 
232  ... 

15  ... 

17  ... 

18  ... 

60  ... 

13  ... 
56  ... 

7  ... 

67  ... 

28  ... 

48  ... 

49  ... 
36  ... 
83  ... 

11  ... 

12  ... 

14  ... 

13  ... 
39-49  ... 

10  ... 

29  ... 
49  ... 

61  ... 


476 
450 
4.53 
451 
4.50 
401 
450 
463 
375 
461 
406 
451 
476 
462 
448 
56 
456 
439 
311 
235 
2H 
447 
.301 
219 
459 
215 
455 
105 
221 
4.55 
219 
463 
230 
441 
4.52 
401 
448 
444 
467 
276 
28(! 
401 
46(i 
364 
459 


Hennj  VIII. 

I    i.  63  ...  417 

i.  100  ...  207 

ii.  122  ...  112 


Henr 

Act 
H 


III 


IV 
V 


I 
li 


III 


IV 


y  VIII— contd. 

line  page 
35  ...  219 
42  ...  317 
84  ...  219 
94  ...  456 

116  ...  112 

145 
22 

353 

361 


sc. 

i. 

i. 
iv. 
iv. 

i. 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
ii. 
li. 
ii. 

i. 
ii. 
v. 

V. 


29 
73 


John. 


1. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
i\\ 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 

i. 

i. 

i. 
iv. 
iv. 
vii. 
vii. 


189 
207 

60 

70 
101 
177 
223 
2S1 
305 
463 

81 
574 
577 

51 

147 

258 

2 

38 

48 

79 

135 

137 

126 

9 

18 
174 
143 
185 
203 
45 
1.54 
46 

rii 

60 


74 


185 
244 
108 
239 
440 
103 
379 


156  ...  4.50 

64  ...  3  SO 

31  ...  465 

40  ...  83 


437 
175 
353 
447 
333 
371 
3,53 
329 
347 
2.32 
330 
277 
277 
189 
3  SO 
464 
337 
450 
218 
411 
45 
468 
219 
253 
258 
445 
(i5 
65 
467 
234 
360 
111 
118 
118 
181 
376 
3t!4 
193 


Julius  CcBsar. 


1. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 


3 
52-70 
■  67 
212 
246 
299 
312 

6 

12 

11 

93 

118 


316 
295 
120 
219 
455 
114 
120 
239 
410 
,302 
309 
400 
356 


Julius  Ccpsir — 
contd. 


Act 

II 


III 


IV 


II 


III 


EC. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

iii. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

li. 

i. 

iii. 

lii. 

iii. 

iii. 

iii. 

i. 

i. 

i. 

iii. 

V. 


line 
•>2 

84 

144 

16(i 

171 

224 

241 

289 

323 

33 

66 

8 

63 

159 

204 

205 

29 

138 

29 

21 

46 

73 
145 

27 
101 
104 

65 

80 


IV 


1. 
i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 
iv. 
iv. 
iv. 
i. 

ii. 

ii. 
iii. 
iv. 
iv. 

V. 

vi. 

vi. 
vi. 
vii. 
vii. 
vii. 
vii. 
i. 

ii. 

ii. 

ii. 


Lear. 

155 

189 

2 

6 
24 

181 

1 

10-47 

35 

242 

275 

302 

307 

82 

59 

79 


172 

72 

115 

188 

23 

1(1 

54 

14 

108 

113 

21 

84 

109 

115 

9 

16 

58 

.59 

1 

1 

40 

46 


page 

...  459 

...  394 

...  445 

...  4.54 

...  206 

...  123 

...  140 

...  288 

...  3,52 

...  464 

...  207 

...  403 

...  237 

...  316 

...  274 

...  377 

...  189 

...  463 

...  192 

...  271 

...  2.39 

...  440 

...  271 

...  456 

...  232 

...  456 

...  .393 

...  474 

...  384 


..  400 

..  456 

..  .390 

..  358 

..  351 

..  334 

..  3.39 

..  437 

..  344 

..  313 

..  340 

..  345 

..  323 

..  .391 

..  122 

..  377 

..  398 

..  172 

..  480 

..  398 

..  267 

..  408 

..  255 

..  406 

..  443 

..  175 

..  458 

..  327 

..  389 

..  (!8 

..  .391 

..  3.5(i 

..  395 

..  237 

..  409 

..  98 

..  476 

..  340 

..  262 


Lear — contd. 


Act 
IV 


sc. 
iii. 
iv. 
iv. 
vi. 
vi. 
vi. 
vi. 
\i. 
vii. 
vii. 
iii. 
iii. 


line 
45 
27 

131 

148 

178 

lt)8 

286 

5 

65 

22 

119 


page 

..  325 

..  239 

..  440 

..  175 

..  260 

..  299 

..  360 

..  371 

..  98 

..  383 

..  452 

..  312 


11 


lit 


IV 


ve' 

s  Labour's 

Lost. 

i. 
i. 

13  .. 

.  319 

.  457 

i. 

I(i0  .. 

.  460 

ii. 

14  .. 

.  331 

ii. 

.  35(1 

ii. 

29  .'.' 

.  372 

ii. 

42  .. 

.  279 

ii. 

67  .. 

.  73 

ii. 

93  .. 

.  377 

ii. 

120  .. 

.  73 

i. 

5  .. 

.  373 

i. 

9  .. 

.  ^05 

i. 

13  .. 

.   274 

i. 

223 

277 

i. 

231  '.'. 

.  162 

i. 

5  .. 

.  356 

i. 

65  .. 

.  399 

i. 

71-83  .. 

.  402 

i. 

9-35  .. 

.  209 

i. 

20  .. 

.  372 

i. 

30  .. 

.  282 

i. 

65  .. 

.  3.59 

i. 

66  .. 

.  388 

i. 

67  .. 

.  365 

i. 

90  .. 

229 

ii. 

68  .. 

273 

ii. 

119  .. 

4,50 

ii. 

128  .. 

381 

ii. 

142  .. 

406 

iii. 

123  .. 

73 

iii. 

163  .. 

147 

iii. 

239  .. 

274 

i. 

14  .. 

386 

i. 

117  .. 

383 

i. 

128  .. 

359 

i. 

161  .. 

438 

ii. 

207  .. 

205 

ii. 

493  .. 

278 

ii. 

765  .. 

148 

ii. 

773  .. 

117 

ii. 

77(i  .. 

121 

ii. 

780  .. 

148 

ii. 

848  .. 

272 

ii. 

853  .. 

399 

ii. 

871  .. 

2(i6 

ii. 

883  ... 

443 

ii. 

905  .. 

384 

ii. 

449 

Macbeth. 

ii. 

21  ... 

428 

ii. 
ii. 

39  ... 

58 
428 

iii. 

58  ".'.". 

249 

iii. 

76-85  .. 

428 

iii. 

117-121  .. 

428 

492 


SHAKESPEARE   QUOTATIONS. 


Macbeth— con 

Id. 

Measure  for         \ 

Merchant  of  Venice 

Much  Ado  About 

Act 

so 

lino 

pa^P 

Measure 

—  contd. 

—  contd. 

Nothing- 

-  contd. 

I 

iii. 

12(1  .. 

.  472 

-Act     sc. 

line     pa^e 

Act      sc.          line     page 

Act     sc. 

line      page 

iii. 

124  . 

.  331 

Ill      i. 

95  ...  117 

V           i.            63  ...  298 

IV        i. 

3  ...  324 

iv. 

11  . 

.  184 

i. 

114  ...  386 

i.          205  ...  411 

11          i. 

94  ...  345 

iv. 

.50  . 

.  237 

„           i. 

118  ...  .349 

i. 

283  ...  361 

vii. 

2  .. 

.  331 

i. 

124  ...  341 

Merry  Wives  of 

i  V. 

3S  ...  160 

vii. 

44  . 

.  205 

i. 

126  ...  363 

Windsor. 

i  V. 

70  ...     88 

vii. 

63  .. 

.  337 

.,          i. 

l(i7  ...  102 

vii. 

81  . 

.  121 

ii. 

107  ...  281 

I        i.            9  ...  382 

Othello. 

ii 

vii. 

i. 

82  .. 
47  . 

.   185 
.  37(1 

ii. 
i  j 

1119  ...  3,54 
285  ...  185 

i.          298  ...     56 
iii.           70  ...  177 

I      i. 

61  ...  328 

i. 

5(i  . 

.  405 

IV          i 

28  ...  .325 

iii.           109  ...  362 

,.          i. 

137  ...  3,55 

i. 

5(i-63  . 

.  428 

ii. 

24  ...  .329 

11          i.           119  ...  .388 

ii. 

12  ...  349 

ii. 

1-16  . 

.  428 

i 

46  ...  116 

i.           195  ...  2()(1 

ii. 

22  ...  .342 

ii. 

38  . 

.  186 

ii 

91  ...  4r-' 

i.          233  ...     61 

ii. 

26  ...  326 

ii. 
iii. 

(i2  . 
116  . 

.  362 
.  35,3 

iii, 
lii. 

132  ...  374 
152  ...  390 

ii.            21  ...  331 
ii.         223  ...  227 

ii. 
ii. 

40  ...  406 
72  ...  316 

iv. 

3  . 

.  457 

VI. 

14  ...  358 

ii.         29J  ...  321 

ii. 

90  ...  406 

lii 

i. 

14  . 

.  407 

V          i. 

59  ...  365 

ii.         314  ...  402 

iii. 

1  ...  328 

ii. 

12  . 

.  467 

j^ 

(lO  ...  299 

iv.            53  ...  .339 

iii. 

1.36  ...  360 

ii. 

13-26  . 

.  428 

i 

93  ...  397 

iv.       End  ...  171 

iii. 

140  ...  322 

ii. 
ii. 
ii. 

16  . 

27  . 

93-1(17  . 

.  259 
.  123 

.  428 

11               '• 

i. 

11           i. 
,.           i. 

232  '".  331 

3S7  ...  321 
394  ...  397 

V        V.         241  ...  3,50 
Midsummer  Night's 

,.       iii. 

11       iii. 

iii. 

1.54  ...  376 
202  ...  283 
206  ...  315 

iv. 

95  . 

.  4')8 

„           i. 

535  ...  359 

Dream. 

iii. 

222  ...  3.57 

iv. 

V. 

1(15  . 
23  . 

.  276 
.  215 

Merchant 

of  Venice. 

I        i.         120  ...  3.54 

,.       iii. 
iii. 

237  ...  3.52 
266  ...  142 

V. 

2li  . 

.  1(13 

„        ii.            83  ...  ,322 

iii. 

271  ...  408 

vi. 

10  . 

.  355 

I          i. 

20  ...  281 

ii.          229  ...  164 

iii. 

274  ...  365 

IV 

i. 
ii. 
ii. 

113  . 

5()  . 
70 

.  461 
.  268 
.  312 

.,         i. 
i- 
i- 

28  ...  443 

97  ...  281 

123  ...  391 

II          i.            92  ...  331 
i.         137  ...  437 
i.          138  ...  316 

iii. 

„       iii. 

iii. 

299  ...  142 
323  ...  348 
330  ...  .392 

11 

iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 

2-8  . 
,54  . 
55  . 
63  . 

..  428 
..  331 
..  234 
..  335 

i. 
i. 
). 

11          i. 

1,55  ...  281 
176  ...  281 

•>«ij 
11    '•'  -'"- 

184  ...  281 

i.          199  ...  451 

i.          235  ...  451 

i.          2.55  ...  2,32 

ii.         120    .    252 

,.       iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 

333  ...  2(50 
335  ...  402 
339  ...  386 
342  ...  386 

iii. 

81   . 

..  171 

„         ii. 

42  ...  303 

ii.          137  ...  242 

iii. 

362  ...  3,50 

iii. 

89  . 

..  ,391 

i'. 

79  ...  Ill 

ii.          203  ...  322 

iii. 

369  ...  .343 

iii. 

142  . 

..  ,3,38 

1,        ii. 

110  ...  407 

III          i.          146  ...  149 

II         i. 

10  ...  404 

iii. 
ii  i. 

1.52  . 

.,  310 

..  378 

„       iii. 
iii. 

95  ...     58 
248 

ii.              1  ...  4i6 
ii.            31  ...  412 

11          i. 

229  ...  320 
234  ...  3.36 

v 

iii. 

iv. 

viii. 

226  '. 
19 
13  . 

..  .342 
..   1(12 
..  311 

iii. 

iii. 

11        ii. 

133  ...  248 
137  ...  311 

2    ..  460 

ii.          12(1  ...  392 
ii.          175  ...  449 
ii.         177  ...  245 

ii. 

iii. 

Ill      iii. 

3  ...  378 
218  ...  385 
122  ...  .341 

viii. 
viii. 

18-28  . 
23  . 

..  428 
..  440 

ii. 
ii. 

146  ...  360 
199  ...  114 

ii.          203  ...  322 
ii.         2,57  ...  160 

„         iii. 

11        iii. 

1,57  ...  271 
173  ...  .3,57 

11. 

205  ...  383 

ii.         279  ...  2nl 

,.         iii. 

182  ...  ,3,54 

Mca 

sure  fen 
asure. 

■ 

ii. 

209  ...  114 

V          i.           12  ...    68 

iii. 

221   ...  410 

Me 

1,         vi. 
vi. 

7  ...  381 
3-19  ...  194 

i.          128  ...     84 
i.          209  ...  380 

iii- 

,.        iii. 

319  ...  319 
32(i  ...  320 

I 

i. 

34 

..  303 

11        vi. 

195 

i.         374  ...  264 

iii. 

365  ...  394 

i. 

54 

..  392 

„        vi. 

8  ...  282 

iii. 

449  ...  240 

i. 

62 

..  443 

vi. 

36  ...  149 

Much  Ado  About 

„        iii. 

453  ...  441 

i. 

i. 

ii. 

65 

m 

10 

..  402 
..  263 
..  467 

11      viii. 
1,      viii. 
„        ix. 

44  ...  383 
46  ...  405 
26  ...     22 

Nothing. 
I         i.          20  ...  379 

iv. 

iv. 

IV        ii. 

113  ...  382 
119  ...  116 
111  ...     .59 

ii. 
ii. 

169 

1» 

..     ,59 
..  439 

ix. 
ix. 

29  ...  3 -'5 
86  ...  406 

i.         130  ...  388 
i.         247  ...  357 

iii. 
iii 

72  ...  3,52 
End  ...  314 

iii. 

1 

..  146 

II         i. 

3  ...  450 

II         i.           15  ...  2(!0 

,,          III. 

iii. 
iii. 

4(1 
46 

..  361 
..  3S9 

ii. 

ii. 

67  ...  161 
KG 

i.           77  ..    451 
i.         374  ...  310 

Pericles. 

iv. 

.30 

..  272 

.,          ii. 

101  ...  447 

„        iii.             7    .    147 

I        ii, 

7  ...  208 

iv. 

76 

..  184 

„         ii. 

111  ...  150 

iii.           23  ...    ,58 

.,         ii. 

123  ...  338 

V. 

.39 

..  221 

ii. 

1,30  ...  331 

iii.           48  ...  117 

,1       iv. 

1  ...    70 

ii 

i. 

27 

..  354 

ii. 

226  ...  310 

iii.         1.52  ...    44 

„       iv. 

83  ...  3.32 

i. 

288 

...  4,57 

ii. 

282  ...  391 

iii.          2,58  ...  203 

II        ii. 

,56  ...  112 

i. 

End 

...  246 

iv. 

11   ...  336 

III       iii.              3  ...  443 

ii. 

315 

ii. 

12 

...  313 

iv. 

32  „.  3111 

iii.            15  ...  1911 

IV          i. 

220  ...  .304 

ii. 

75 

...  234 

iv. 

74  „.  27i; 

IV          i.          146  ...     85 

iii. 

1-21  ...  467 

ii. 

90 

...  439 

IV          i. 

75  ,„  244 

i.          2(16  ...  3.S3 

iv. 

21   ...  264 

ii. 

134 

...  241 

i. 

18(1  ...  276 

i.          22(1  ...  304 

V          i. 

93  ...  .325 

iv. 

12 

...  112 

V          i. 

1  ...  244 

i.          226  ...  112 

i- 

153  ...  231 

III 

i. 

2 

...  1(J5 

i. 

55  ...  244 

i 269 

i- 

251  ...  322 

SHAKESPEARE  QUOTATIONS. 


493 


Richard  II. 

K  ichard  III. — contd. 

Romeo  and  Juliet 

Tlmon 

of  Athens — 

Act  sc. 

line 

page 

Act   sc. 

line  page 

■ — contd. 

contd. 

I    i. 

43  . 
61  . 

.  .321 
.1— .» 

I   li. 

150  ...  236 
228  ...  135 

Act  sc.    line  pase 

.\ct  so. 

line  page 

i- 

.  iii 

ii. 

V   iii.     15  ...  469 

Ill     V. 

42  ...  399 

11   iii. 

iii. 
,.   iii. 

iii. 

iii. 

67  . 
150  . 
156  . 
234  . 
236  . 

.   256 
.  346 
.  378 
.  385 
.  242 

iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
iii. 
„   iii. 

70  ...  57 
122  ...  271 
127  ...  3.56 
143  ...  323 
207  ...  316 

Tamiyig    of    the 

Shrew. 

Indue,  i.    100  ...  .3,33 

V. 

V. 

IV   iii. 

11    iii. 

iii. 

51  ...  279 

97  ...  221 

22  .„  405 

112  ...  117 

118  ...  351 

,.   iii. 

241  . 

.  385 

iii. 

2.59  ...  46 

.1   ii.    135  ...  457 

„    iii. 

183  ...  3.38 

iii. 

25H  . 

.  284 

iii. 

263  ...  44S 

1    i.     2  ...  456 

11    iii. 

245  ...  316 

iii. 

262-3(13  . 

.  458 

iv. 

150  ...  460 

i.     28  ...  456 

iii. 

345  ...  398 

„   iii. 

304  .. 

.  443 

iv. 

173  ...  450 

i.     31  ...  23(1 

V   iv. 

31  ...  339 

iv. 

•) 

.  443 

iv. 

176  ...  466 

i.    207  ...  ,391 

IL    i. 

17-23"  '.'. 

.  43,S 

iv. 

261  ...  467 

!,'    ii!     ,30  !."  329 

Titus  Andronicus. 

i. 

44  .. 

.  368 

iv. 

27(1  ...  467 

ii.     .52  ,..  221 
ii.     66  ...  221 
ii.     70  ...  302 
ii.    1,33  ...  404 
ii.    276  ...  335 
III    i.     18  ...  466 

i. 

62  .. 

.  3iii 

iv. 

283  ...  467 

I    i. 

27  ...  319 

.1    '• 

187  .. 

.  233 

II   ii. 

3  ...  44 

1.    i. 

68  ...  325 

i. 

241-261  .. 

.  478 

ii. 

68  ...  396 

11    i. 

136  ...  307 

1.    i- 

241  .. 

.  219 

ii. 

117  ...  2.39 

i. 

178  ...  4.56 

.1     '■ 

25(1  .. 

.  59 

ii. 

459 

i. 

182  ...  384 

i. 

265  .. 

.  4(t3 

„    iii. 

41  ...  64 

ii.     95  ...  89 

IV   iv.     1  ...  221 

iv.     65  ...  405 

iv.     95  ...  448 

V    i.    131  ...  468 

i. 

185  ...  .323 

i. 

.. 

.  457 

iv. 

71  ...  4(i4 

i. 

202  ...  451 

ii. 

6  .. 

.  243 

Ill    i. 

79  ...  452 

1.    i. 

221  ...  359 

11    ii. 

68  .. 

.  105 

i. 

94  ...  452 

11    i. 

280  ...  210 

ii. 

69  .. 

.  438 

ii. 

28  ...  362 

1.    i. 

.366  ...  399 

.1    ii. 

78  .. 

.  103 

iv. 

98  ...  102 

ii.    173  ...  151 
ii.    176  ...  443 

i. 

379  ..  307 

ii. 
ii. 

123  .. 
127  .. 

.  477 

.  im 

V. 

Aii. 

5  ...  376 
231  ...  362 

i. 
II    i. 

399  ...  262 
112  ...  407 

11    iii. 

6  .. 

.  243 

vii. 

244  ...  4i3 

Tempest. 

.1    i. 

120  ...  401 

.1   iii. 

15  .. 

104 

IV    i. 

49  ...  2(jl 

11   iii. 

96  ...  464 

11   iii. 

94  .. 

383 

.1     i. 

4^55 

I   ii.    13  ...  .326 

iii. 

209  ...  327 

iii. 

453 

.1    i. 

54  ...  236 

ii.     30  ...  385 

iii. 

262  ...  241 

iii. 

idi  .'.' 

326 

.1     i. 

59  ...  364 

„   ii.    125  ...  3.55 

Ill    i. 

11  ...  456 

ill. 

103  .. 

453 

i. 

4lil 

ii.    181  ...  369 

1.    i. 

16  ...  469 

Ill    ii. 

34  .. 

.  4(13 

i. 

79  ...  243 

ii.    247  ...  47 

1.    i. 

68  ...  2,53 

,.    ii. 

1,35  .. 

242 

,1    iv. 

24(5  ...  .342 

ii.    351  ...  275 

i. 

233  .„  206 

ii. 

144  .. 

7(1 

.,   iv. 

364  ...  444 

II    i.    1-9  ...  70 

ii. 

71  ...  375 

ii. 

155  .. 

70 

iv. 

420  ...  217 

!.    121  ...  317 

IV    i. 

78  ...  409 

iii. 

10  .. 

457 

V    ii. 

17  ...  205 

i.    137  ...  242 

V   ii. 

202  ...  382 

iii. 

478 

11    ii. 

23  ...  445 

ii.     62  ...  263 

iii. 

1.33  ...  4.54 

iii. 

1.5 :: 

474 

11   iii. 

26  ...  384 

III    i.     37  ...  »A 

.1    iii. 

184  ...  441 

iii. 

62  .. 

219 

iii. 

193  ...  2i)5 

i 234 

iii. 

199  ...  2.30 

iii. 

65  .. 

382 

iv. 

7-13  ...  4.56 

i.     83  ...  300 

iii. 

204  ...  401 

,1    iii. 

68  .. 

219 

„    v. 

35  ...  276 

ii.     94  ...  187 

iii. 

101  .. 

326 

V. 

393 

iii.      7  ...  108 

Troilus 

<£  Cressida. 

.,   iii. 

175  .. 

448 

iii.     10  ...  ,3.58 

iii. 

176  .. 

255 

Romeo  and  Juliet.    1 

iii.     60  ...  310 

Prologue 

8  ...  ,360 

[V    i. 

11    i. 

11  .. 

53  .. 

207 
449 

I   i. 

184  ...  1.38 

232  ...  217 

26  ...  373 

97  ...  1(!2 

299 

IV    i.     18  ...  323 

i.    114  ...  206 

I    i. 

„    ii. 

1  ...  306 
27  ...  2,59 

i. 
i. 

"    \- 
i 

200  .. 
222 
228  .'.' 
254 

442 
455 
463 

4ii2 

i. 

ii. 

.,   iii. 

iii. 

i.    122  ...  89 
i.    139  ...  ,338 
i,    1.53  ...  372 
i.    16(1  ...  445 

11    ii. 

ii. 

.,   iii. 

11   iii. 

114  „.  444 

320  ...  334 

3  ...  102 

7  ...  245 

i. 
iv. 

316  ".". 
201-318  .. 

440 
485 

V. 

11    i. 
.1    i. 

42  —  254 
156  ...  315 
171  ...  217 

V    i.    1,53  ...  85 
i.    246  ...  ,3(38 

iii. 
,,   iii. 

iii. 
„   iii. 
11   iii. 

iii. 

9  ...  3,50 

75-137  ...  262 

85  ...  375 

110  ...  382 

119  ...  363 

149  ...  14 

iv. 

V    i. 

i. 

308  .. 

29  .. 

46  .. 

71  .. 

1  .. 

43  .. 

57-99  .. 

21  .. 

1-30  .. 

1-65  .. 

31] 

459 
311 
477 
475 
402 
247 
454 
74 
486 

ii. 
ii. 
ii. 

9  ...  44S 
92  ...  303 

im  ...   244 

Timon  of  Athens. 
I    i,     20  ...  178 

11    i. 

iii. 

iii. 
1,   iii. 

V. 
V. 
V. 

„    iii. 

32  ...  244 

i.     37  .,.  322 

.,   iii. 

1,53  ,..  2(i7 

iii. 

.33  ...  204 

i.     72  ...  402 

1.   iii. 

340  ...  410 

iii. 

36  ...  460 

i.     84  ...  46 

.1   iii. 

358-386  ...  215 

^i. 

9  ...  138 

i.    107  ...  317 

11   iii. 

374  ...  407 

vi. 

11  ...  242 

ii.    139  ...  316 

1.   iii. 

380  ...  446 

Ill    i. 
i. 

122  ...  4.54 
4(i8 

ii.    142  ...  107 
ii.    145  ...  345 

II   ii. 

„    ii. 

16  ...  403 
49  ...  340 

Ricliard  III. 

1.     i- 

End  ...  247 

ii.    211  ...  240 

„    ii. 

61  ...  330 

ii. 

1-4  ...  4.55 

ii 461 

ii. 

115  ...  410 

I    i. 

6  .. 

439 

ii. 

45  ...  236 

11    1.     22  ...  .357 

„    ii. 

121  ,„  340 

i. 

9  .. 

439 

ii. 

112  ...  72 

ii.    219  ...  376 

1,    ii. 

132  ...  395 

11   ii. 

71  .. 

23(1 

iii. 

1(19  ...  1,39 

ii.    220  ...  .3,57 

ii. 

136  ...  395 

11    ii. 

78  .. 

339 

iii. 

122  ...  1,39 

III   iv.     81  ...  40(1 

ii. 

142  ...  437 

ii. 

105  .. 

452 

V. 

1  ...  475 

V.      2  ...  247 

.1    ii. 

153  ...  340 

494 


SHAKESPEARE  QUOTATIONS. 


Troilus  &  Cressida  | 

Two  Gentlemen  of   \ 

Winter's 

Talc—      1 

Lucrece  —contd. 

—  contd. 

Verona - 

-contd. 

contd.              1 

Line 

Pa,?e 

Act 

sc.         line     raee 

.\ct      sc. 

line     pane 

Act      sc. 

line     paRc 

1()53 
1686 
1702 
1709 
1714 
1807 
1830 
1842 
18.54 

,52 

246 

50 

.53 

52 

...    113 

314 

44 

390 

11 

ii.           108  ...  350 

I     iii. 

(W  ...  301 

„           i. 

151  ...  440 

ii.          100  ...  305 
iii.           74  ...    4() 
iii.         107  ...  357 
iii.         134  ...  117 
iii.          205  ...  253 
iii.          214  ...     4! 
iii.         221  ...  253 

II      i. 

„        iii. 

iv. 
„        iv. 

iv. 

iv. 

vi. 

18    .    145 
.57  ...  402 
13S  ...  314 
1(!4  ...  145 
1(57  ...  314 
102  ...  200 
25  ...  KiO 

i.          1,58  ...  405 
ii.            11   ...     83 
ii.            (i7  ...  2.57 
ii.            80  ...  258 

Venus   and   Adjnis. 
Line                       Patre 

iii.          251  ...  32H 

vi. 

27  ...  217 

Dedication 

...      62 

Sonnets. 

iii.          259  ...  347 

Ill         i. 

1,53  ...  441 

49       ... 

...     4(i2 

No. 

P.iKe 

40(1 

111 

ii.            14  ...  384 

i- 

170  ...  442 

129      ... 

...     2lil,  4,55 

ii.           20  ...    96 

,,         i. 

241  ...  4.58 

303      ... 

...     455 

() 

4.54 

ii.           6(1  ...  283 

i. 

243  ...  450 

310      ... 

...     473 

8 

29S 

ii.           69  ...  319 

1- 

245  ...  400 

401       ... 

...     205 

10 

401 

ii.           71  ...  137 

i. 

246  ...   10(; 

.567 

...     184 

13 

34  i,  4 19 

ii.           74  ...    98 

i. 

251  ...  353 

767 

...     247 

17 
19 

258 

ii.         162  ...  1(>5 

IV         i. 

64  ...  442 

841       ... 

...     258 

273 

ii.         167  ...  103 

iii. 

8  ...  301 

035      ... 

...     254 

21 

274 

iii.             2  ...  454 

V          i. 

4  ...  3.52 

0(i6      ... 

...     4(i2 

24 

•>■]■>  -"M  4U9 

iii.      38-53  ...  118 

„        iv. 

108  ...  312 

085 

...     107 

25 

267 

iii.           47  ...  114 

iv. 

100  ...  303 

1135-1164 

...     1.56 

27 

254 

iii.            118 

iii.           51  ...  472 

Tivelfth 

Night. 

Lncrece. 

35 
37 

47 

272 

iii.           74  ...    46 

I        i. 

22  ...  310 

115      ... 

...      64 

42 

210 

iii.            75  ...  4()8 

iii. 

9  ...  379 

200 

...     156 

49 

473 

iii.          103  ...  120 
iii 294 

iii.          100  ...  408 

„       iii. 

125  ...     60 

2(H      ... 

...     2(i6 

51 

210 

„       iii. 

V. 

140  ...  221 
311  ...  161 

313      ... 
340 

...     3.30 
...     3.56 

52 
55 

91,407 
43 

iii.          151  ...  439 

iii.         153  ...  375 

iii.          214  ...    46 

i.           57  ...  442 

i.           75  ...  274 

n      i. 

11  ...  34(i 

421       ... 

...     230,441 

(!0 

47 

IV 

„           i. 

,,        iv. 

iv. 

355 

14   ...  152 

77  ...  122 

432      ... 

526 
540      ... 

...     239,440 
...     402 
...    2,36 

69 
70 

72 

93 

2,57 
40 

V. 

3S  ...  447 

(ilO     ... 

...     465 

73 

41 

iv.           66  ...  377 

V. 

97  ...  281 

(i33      ... 

...    120. 385 

74 

41. 265, 310 

IV 

i  /.           70  ...  .3t)0 

V. 

181  ...  418 

604 

...    467 

78 

369 

V.         122  ...  381 

Ill        i. 

43  ...  177 

780 

75 

81 

42 

V 

V.          142  ...  378 
ii.          116  ...  30() 

IV        ii! 

54  ...  248 
5  ...  347 

800       ... 
867 

...    272 
...    243 

84 
87 

211 

18 

n 

ii.          13(1  ...  344 

V         i. 

287  ...  355 

892 

...     4.54 

89 

272,  473 

») 

ii.          147  ...  .329 

i- 

301  ...  336 

928       ... 

...     271 

94 

243 

»1 

ii.          158  ...  357 
ii.         173  ...  333 

Winter 

s  Tale. 

931       ... 
931)      ... 

..    317 
...    3.57 

100 
102 

266.  393 
88,  274, 437 

" 

ii.          180  ...  333 
iii.            37  ...  229 
iv.            ]2  ...  215 

X.            13  ...  300 

1       I 

31  ...  207 

9.52 

...    468 

lOli 

85 

!! 

ii.   192-207  ...    74 

1009-1078 

...      .52 

107 

42, 47,  375 

" 

.,        ii. 

388  ...  236 

lO.SO       ... 

...     203 

108 

273 

'• 

IV       iv. 

24  ...  153 

1107      ... 

75 

113 

.309 

Two  Oentlemen  of 
Verona. 

„         iv. 
„         i  V. 
,,         iv. 

42  ...  153 

89  ...  187 
105  ...  267 

1287       ... 
1.300-14  10 
1399       ... 

...     11.' 
...     185 
...     213 

111 
120 
129 

304 
442 
251 

I 

i.         l-OO  ...  1  14 

„         i  v. 

172  ...  205 

1443      ... 

...    409 

133 

460 

ii.            .57  ...  144 

„         iv. 

453  ...  177 

1554       ... 

...     401 

137 

278 

ii.          114  ...  242 

iv. 

401   ...  153 

1577       ... 

75 

144 

4.53 

,, 

ii.           07  ...  455 

V        i. 

2(i  ...  363 

1613      ... 

...      52 

146 

3J1 

INDEX     II. 

Classic  Words  in  Chapter  XIV. 


1  Abruption 

2  Academe 

3  Aecite 

4  Acknown 

5  Ant 

6  Admiration 

7  Adveriising 

8  Aggravate 

9  Ant  res 

10  Argentine 

11  Artifleial 

12  Aspersion 

13  Cacodoemon 

14  Cadent 

15  Candidatus 

16  Capricious 

17  Captious 

18  Cast 

19  (i.)  Casual 

.,  (ii.)  Casualties 

20  Cireummuie 

21  Circumscribe 

22  Circumscription 

23  Civil 

24  Collect 

25  Cillection 
2(j  Comfort 

27  Complement 

28  Composition 

29  Composure 

30  Compound 

31  Concent 

32  Conduce 

33  Conduct 

34  (i.)  Confine 

,.   (ii.)  Conflneless 
,.  (iii.)Un_'onflnable 

35  Confix 

3(i  Congreeing 

37  Congruent 

38  Consequence 

39  Consign 

40  Consist 

41  Con^tringed 
4i  Contain 

43  Content 

44  Continent 

45  Contraction 
4(5  Contrive 

47  Conveniences' 

48  Convent 

49  Conversation 

50  Convicted 

51  Convince 

52  Crescive 

53  Crisp 

5^  Decimation 
55  Defnsed 


56  Degenerate 

57  Deject 

58  Delated 

59  Delaiion 

60  Demerits 

61  Djmise 

62  Depend 

03  (i.)  Deprave 

„  (ii.)  Depravation 

64  (i.)  Derogate 

„  (ii.)  Derogation 

65  (i.)  Determine 

„  (ii.)  Determinate 
„  (iii.)  Determination 
6u  Digested 

67  Dilated 

68  Discoloured 

69  Dissemble 
'  70  Distract 

71  Document 

72  Double 

73  E-nioent 
71   Epitho-on 
75  (i.)  Err 

,.  (ii.)  Krrant 
.,  (iii.)  Erring 

70  Evitate 

77  Exempt 

78  Exhaust 

79  Exhibition 

80  Exit^ent 

81  (i.)  R.\:orcism 
,,  (ii.)  Esorcisor 
„  (iii.)  Exorcist 

82  Expedient 

83  Expedition 
81  Expostulate 
85  Expulsed 

80  Exsufflicate 

87  Extenuate 

88  Estirp 

89  Extracting 

90  (i.)  Extravagant 
„  (ii.)  Extravagancy 

91  Facinorous 

92  Fact 

93  Factious 

94  Fatigate 

95  Festinate-ly 
9'3  Fine-less 

97  Fortitude 

98  Fracted 

99  Fraction 

100  Frustrate 

101  (i.)  Generous 

,,  (ii.)  (icnerosity 
„  (iii.)Gentlo 
„  (iv.)  Gentility 


102  Glory 

103  Gratulate 
ICl  Illustrate 
in5  Immanity 
100  (i.)  Imminent 

,.  (ii.)  Imminence 

107  Immure 

108  (i.i  Impertinent 
.,  (ii.)  Impertinency 

109  implorator 

110  Imponed 

111  (i.)  Impose 

.,  (ii.)  Imposition 

112  Incarnadine 

113  Incense 
lU  Incertain 

115  Include 

116  Inclusive 

117  Indigest 

118  Indign 

119  Indubitate 

120  Inequality 

121  (i.)  Infest 

,.  (ii.)  Infestion 

122  Influence 

123  Inform 

121  Infortunat9 
12)  Ingenious 

126  Inhabitable 

127  (i.)  Inherit 

„  (ii.)  Inheritor 

128  Insinuation 
12J  (i.)  Insisture 

..  (ii.)  Insisting 

130  Instance 

131  Instant 

132  (i.)  Insult 

„  (ii.)  Insultment 
13!   Intend 

134  Intentively 

135  Inteniblo 
130  (i.)  Intrinse 

..  (ii.)  Intrinsecite 

137  Lethe 

138  (i.i  Maculate 

..  (li.)  Maculalion 
13.)   Merc-ly 

140  M.'rit 

141  Mirable 
112   Modest  V 
143  (i.)  .Mure 

„  (ii.)  Mural 
111  Name 

145  N  ISO 

146  (i.)  Obliged 

„  (ii.)  Obligation 

147  Occident 

148  Ollice 


149  Officious 

150  Oppugnaney 

151  (i.)  Ostent 

..  (ii.)  Ostentation 

152  P,iint-ed 
15!   Pall  lament 
151  (i.)  Part 

„  (ii.)  Partial-ly 
.,  (iii.)  Party 
155  Perdition 

15)  Perdnrable-ly 

157  Peregrinate 

158  Periapts 

159  Permission 

160  Pernicious 

161  Peipend 
1'2  Persian 
163  Person 
161  Pervert 
165  Plague 

16)  Plant 

167  Plausibly 
16S  Port 

169  Port  (bis) 

170  Portable 

171  Prefer 

172  Premised 

173  Preposterous 

174  Prevent 

175  Prevention 

176  Probation 

177  Proditor 

178  Propend 

179  Propension 

180  Propugnation 

181  Pudency 

182  (^uestant 

183  Quajstrist 
181  Recordation 

185  Reduce 

186  Re  felled 

187  Religious-ly 

188  Uemonstrahce 

189  Re  motion 

190  Renege 

191  Replete 

192  (i.)  Repugn 

,,  (ii.)  Repu'.;nancy 
.,  (iii.)  Ilepugnant 

193  Repute 
191   Uetentiv'O 
195  Revert 
lift)  Rivago 

197  Roscius 

198  Ruinate 

199  (i.)  Sacred 
„    (ii.)  Sacred 

200  Salve 


496 


CLASSIC   WORDS    IN    CHAPTER    XIV. 


201  Scope 

202  Sect 

203  (i.)  Secure-ly 
„  (ii.)  Security 

204  Seen 

20o  Segregation 

206  Semblable 

207  Sensible 


208  Septentrion 

209  Sequent 

210  Simular 

211  Solemn 

212  Sort 

2i;!  (i.)  Speculation 
„  (li.)  Speculative 
214  Stelled 


215  Stelled 

216  Sluprum 

217  Substitute 

218  Success 

219  Suppliance 

220  Suspire 

221  Suspiration 

222  Tenable 


223  Terms 

22-t  Translate 

225  Umbered 

226  Umbrage 

227  Uncivir 

228  Uncon finable 

229  Unsislinj; 
2:50  Unseminared 


INDEX    III. 

Topics     and     Names. 


In  this  Index  S.  =  Shakespeare  ;   W.  S.  =  William  Shakspere;   B.  =  Bacon;   B.-S. 
=  The  Bacon-Shakespeare  Controversy. 


Abate,  The  edge,  276 
Abbott  (Dr.)  Charm  of  B."s 

Style,  37;   S.  Grammar,  69, 
Accident  and  foresight,  269 
Adonis'  gardens,  206 
Adrian :  Curious,  278 
Advantage,  261,  454 
^thiope,  160 
Agamemnon,  102 
Allusions,  Classic,  in  S.,  225, 

229,  267,  292-309,  323,  339, 

349,  378.  441,  4.i3 
Anaxarchus,  233 
Andrews  (Dr.),  Letter  by  B. 

to,  66 
Anonymous  Writings  by  B., 

35,  417 
Antiquity,  181 
Antitheta  in  S.,  283,  285;  Use 

of,  63 
Aristippus,  209 
Aristotle,  80, 162,  230,  249,  344, 

433 
Aristocratic  sentiment  in  S., 

20 
Armour  of  the  mind,  252 
Art  and  nature,  187 
Ashes  and  cinders,  270 
Augustine  (Saint),  297 

Baby,  276 

Back,  Carries  a  revenue,  447 

Bacon  (Francis,  Lord)  neg- 
lected by  S.  Sciiolars,  ix., 
488:  on  the  Common  people 
21;  Life, 32;  Scholarship,  32; 
Inaccurate  quotation,  32:  a 
Poet,  34;  Disguises.  35,  416; 
Private  Life,  36;  Literary 
output,  38;  Claims  immor- 
tality, 40  ;  Personal  char- 
acteristics in  8.,  43  ;  Fall, 
45;  Self-vindication  in  S., 
47;  Dramatic  faculty,  48; 
and  Essex,  59;  and  Coke, 
6(1;  his  Antitheta,  63,  281; 
and  Tennyson,  71  ;B.  PIssays 
in  S.,  279;  resembles  Fal- 
staflf,  282 

Bacon  (Lady  Ann),  62 

Bacon  (.\nthony),  37 

B.-S.,  X.,  xi.,  2,  3  -  9 

Bail  of  death,  205 

Baines  (Professor),  286,  349 


Bandy,  471 

Base  Court.  254 

Basilisk,  234,  391 

Bastard,  Usury,  247 

Bastinado,  232 

Beethoven  :  Early  and  late 
Works,  484 

Behaviour  a  garment,  109 

Bettenham,  Saying  of,  179 

Bias,  277 

BlaL;k  feathers,  257 

Bleeding  inwards,  210,  460 

Braddon  ( Miss)  Output  and 
B.'s,  40 

Brain-sick,  471 

Brandes  (Professor),  149,  462 

Breast,  Striking  the,  43 

Browne  (Brit.  Past),  364 

Bruno,  2.),  27,  423 

Bnrghley,  38,  167 

Bullen,  158,  416,  419,  422,  427, 
429 

Burton,  Anatomv  of  Melan- 
choly, 161,  163, 165,  447 

Cade  (Jack).  48 

Cadence  in  music,  298 

Campbell  (Lord)  on  Law  in 
S,  19 

Carseoli,  Foxes,  4.53 

Castillo,  163 

Catullus,  3r0 

Certainly,  281 

Clianee  and  foresight,  269 

Chapman  and  Marlowe,  424 

Chapman's  praise,  274 

Chamber  of  meditation,  269 

Chettle,  13 

Cicero,  45,  67,  123,  190,  297, 
343,  373,  379,  394 

Circe,  442 

Classic  Learning,  how  shown 
292  ;  Impossible  to  W.  S  , 
297;  Plav.s,  29!.  308;  Con- 
structions, 293,  309;  Words, 
293,  318 

Cockatrice,  234 

Coke(Lord),  3.3,  6) 

Coleridge  (S.  T.)  on  S.,  5,  414  ; 
Rash  critics,  129 

Coleridge  (Hartley):  S.  a 
Tory,  20 

Collier  and  Marlowe,  421-4 

Colours,  471 


Common  and  popular,  277 

Compan  ionship,446  (chap.V.) 

Concent,  280 

Coniell,  26 

Contention,  Drama,  47,  466 

(Country  life  not  in  S.,  23 

Court  holy  water,  255 

Covet  honour,  257 

Cowden-Clarke  on  S.  learn- 
ing, 286,  289,  316,  317,  338, 
341. 347,  350, 354, 364;  S.  Key, 
317 

Cudgelled  ears,  231 

Crow :  Type  of  slander,  257 

Cunningham  on  Marlowe, 
420 

Danger,  Stand  in  his,  276 

Davidson's  Rhapsody,  158 

Dedications,  Self- deprecia- 
tion in.  61 

Demojritus,  167,  169 

Demosthenes,  87 

Deverenx  :  Life  of  Essex,  37, 
109 

Dido  (Marlowe's),  426,  428 

Discourse  of  reason,  307 

Diogenes  Laertius,  233 

Dixon  ( Hepworth),  62 

Donnelly  on  B.-S.,  13,  3>),  223. 
225 

Dowden  on  W.  S.,  6,  23;  on 
Marlowe,  416 

Dramatic  Situation  in  S.  and 
Marlowe,  477 

Drylight,  96 

Dutch  Feists.  236 

Dyee,  122,  374,  431 

Echoing-repartee,  474 
Eclips3,  46 
Edge  of  envy.  276 
Edward  XL  (Marlowe's),  63, 

76,  193,217.221 
Elze  on  S.  foreign  travel,  25 
Rlizabelhan  songbooks.  157 
Ellis  on  Permissio  int'.dlec- 

tus,  3S7 
Emerson  on  S  ,  5 
Enamelled  danger,  231 
England's  Helicon,  157 
English  feasts,  236 
Entertain  hopes,  9'3,  97 
Erasmus,  12 

KK 


498 

Erclcs  vein  in  S.,  426,  428,  4.'?1 
Essays  of  B.  misunderstood, 

13 
Esses  (Earl),  4,  37,45,59,77, 

109 
Euripedes,  306,  307 
Expense  of  spirit,  2r)l 
Eye,  Double,  258 

Fair  weather,  275 
Farmer  on  S.,  368 
Fascination,  161,  236 
Faustns     (Marlowe's),    422, 

451,4,Sl 
Fawninglion,  220,  241 
Feared  and  loved,  46.3 
Feasts,  English  and  Dutch, 

256 
Felicity,  463 
Few  words,  220 
Figures  and  forms,  272 
Fitzgerald  ( Edward),  337 
Flattery  :  Hope,  105,  437 
Flea  on  Marlowe,   430,  436, 

44i,483 
Florio's  Montaigne,  17 
Folio  of  1623.  8,  69 
Fool's  bolt,  205 
Foreslow,  471 
Forges,  170 

Forgetting,  Art  of,  216,  461 
Fort  of  reason,  252 
Fortune  to  fools,  205 
Fowler  (Professor),  87,  387 
French  language  in  S.,  24,  25 

38 
Furnivall  on  Law  in  S,,  20 

Gauntlet  and  glove,  252 
Glass,  The  eye  and,  117,  295, 

296 
Glory,  210 
Goethe  and  B.,  33 
Golden,  438.  444 
Golding's  Ovid,  364 
Grammatical  Forms  in    S., 

309,  317 
Grant  on  Faustns,  216 
Greene's  Groatsworth  of  Wit, 

13 
Grosart  on  B.'s  Authorship 

of  Christian  Paradoxes,  8 
Gross  and  palpable,  264 

Habit  and  fashion,  110 

Hail  of  pearl,  212 

Hales  on  S.  Foreign  travel, 

25 
Hallam  on  S.,  5 
Harvey  (Dr.).  34,  288 
Harsh  and  out  of  lun^.  268 
Hearing  and  seeing   215 
Hell  of  pain,  412 
Heminge,  36 
Hcraclitus,  96 
Hero  and  Leander,  169,  347, 

421 
Holmes  (.ludi'e),].  13 
Holy  wntcr.  255 
Homer,  ,306,  307 
Honey  and  speech,  241 
Hooker.  327 
Hope.  Singular  ideas   of  B., 

66,  97;  and  madness,  107 


TOPICS   AND    NAMES. 


Horace,  21.  199,  299,  301,  304, 

352,  3SM.  3S9 
Horticultnre  in  S.,  190 
Hudson  (  Rev.  W.  II.).  66.  97 
Hunt  (Leigh) on  S. learning, 

286,  395 
Hylas  and  Hercules,  4'22 

Ignoto,  Poems  by,  158 
Immortalitv  anticipated  by 

B.  and  S..40 
Imposthumes,  210 
Impossibilitie-i,  182 
Ingleby's  Century  of  praise, 

31 
Instance,  374 
Intend,  181 

Internal  evidence,  425 
Iris,  445 
Italy  and  poison,  465 

Jew  of    Malta   (Marlowe's), 

423,  429 
Jonson  (Ben),  6,  29,  36,  49,235, 

320,  403 

Keep  state,  276 

Kennedy  on  Mvrlowe,  416, 
427 

Knight  (Charles)  on  W.  S., 
5.  286,  297,378;  Use  of  paral- 
lels, 23;  on  Marlowe,  421, 
431 

Knots  in  wood,  243 

Lamb  ("Charles)  on  Marlowe, 

485 
Lame  man,  272 
Lamps  of  love,  163 
Landor,  W.  S.  on  Love,  129 
Latin:   Aceurnte  io  B,  399; 

Inaccu'-ate,  32 
Law  in  S.,  18,  487;  Langna^e 

ditTicult  to  acquire,  19,  277; 

not  in  M  irlowe,  487 
Leaf-.iov,  lOi 
Lee  (Sidney).  Life  of  S..  28 

„    (Vernon),  69,  108,156 
Leicester  (Earl),  77 
Licetu=i,  302 
Lies  in  the  ear,  &c.,  260 
Like  himself,  218 
Lion  fawning,  229,  411 
Livy,67 

Lodged,  204  460 
Long  of,  472 
Long  arms,  206 
LoDcz  in  Faustns,  422 
Love  in  15.  and  S..  126:  S  anty 
use  of,  131,  151:  and  folly, 
163:  without  end,  254;  and 
Ilatlery.  293 
Loved,  Lacked,  305 
Lowell  (.1.  Kussell)  on  Mar- 
lowe. 76.  416,  483 
Lubricus  locus,  45 
Lucrece  and  B.,  49 
Luther,  78 
Lyrics  by  B  ,  157 

Madness  prevalent,  267,  299; 

Method  in.  209 
Magnanimous  lion,  229 


Mallet     on     B.     Dramatic 

faculty,  48 

Marigolds,  267 

Marlowe,  415;  Character  of, 
419;  Various  styles  in,  416, 
426;  Passages  in  S.,  426-439, 
4S1 ;  Orifjin  of  plays  unex- 
plained, 420 

Marshall  to  the  will,  252 

Mirtineau  on  wonder,  80 

Martyrdom,  174 

Massicre  of  Paris  (Mar- 
lowe's), 433 

Massay  (Gerald),  1,  1.58,  430, 
462 

Meikle.iohn,  Pay  home,  472 

Merchant's  praise,  273 

Mercy  and  cruelty,  246 

Mercury.  445 

Midas.  447 

Milton.  287,  373.  395 

Mines,  Pits.  Forges,  167 

Miracles,  82, 171;  and  misery, 
171 

Moberly,  351 

Money  and  muck,  179;  in 
purse,  260 

Montaigne,  Copy  of,  with 
W.  S.  autograph,  17 

Moonshine  in  water,  205 

Moore  (Col.)  on  B.  and  S.,  124, 
229 

Morgan  (Appleton)  on  B.-S., 
13 

Motes  and  shadows,  262 

Music  in  the  soul,  298 

Nail  drives  out  nail,  206 

Narcissus,  265 

Nature    and   art,   187;    and 

fortune,  188 
Neiffhbonrhood    of    plants, 

193 
Neil  on  W.  S.  and  Bruno,  23; 

on  Aristotle  in  S.,  102 
Noise  of  wind,  244 
Northumberland  house  MS. 

173,  203 
Nurseries  of  art,  &c.,  457 

Old  Men's  talk.  257 

Osborn     on     B.'s    dramatic 

faculty,  48 
Otioman  rubers,  230 
Out  of  joint,  2,59 
Out  of  tunc.  268 
Ovid,  199,229.303,364 
Over,  as  a  prefix,  472 
Owl,  nightly,  404 

Pack-horse,  271 

Painted,  449 

Parallels,  Use  of,  430,  470 

Parnassus  plays,  44,  96,  330, 

479 
Pav,  Home,  Ac,  472 
Pearl,  Hail  of,  212 
Permission,  387 
Pent  and  mewed,  459 
Persian  garments,  389;  Magic, 

195 
Persius,  299 
Phaethon,441 


TOPICS    AND    NAMES. 


499 


Phillipps(Halli  well),  Life  of 

S.,  23-31 
Philosophia  prima,  194,  298. 

329 
Physiognomy,  184 
Picton  (Allansoa)  on  S.  bio- 
graphy, 12 
Plato,  35',  80.117,162,  294-298, 

319 
Play  prizes,  262 
Pliny,  233 
Plntareh,  29lt 
Poetry,  Genesis  of,  178 
Point-device,  111 
Pontiflcal,  93 
Popularity.  277 
Pott  (Mrs.  C)  on  Rural  life 

in  ?.,  23 ;    Promus    notes, 

225 
Praise,    to    Sell,    273 ;     and 

Virtue,  20S 
Pray  in  aid,  275 
Primum  mobile,  191 
Print  of  goodness.  274 
Procus  in  B.  and  S.,  208 
Prolongation  of  life  by  hope, 

105;  by  medic'lne,  19f> 
Promus.  Use  of  in  B.,  199; 

Significance  of,  201 
Proteus,  447 
Patting  tricks  on,  263 

Quaestrists.  395 

Quartos,  435 

Question,    begins    a    scene, 

475;  Out  of.  281 
Quicksilver,  2!7 
Quod  instat,  374, 393 

Raleigh,  349 

Ramus,  432 

Rashness  aud  foresight,  269 

Reed  (Kdwin)  on  B.-S.,  36, 

269.  378 
Repartee  studied,  202,  474 
Repentance  too  late,  467 
Retrograde,  275 
Robinson's  Marlowe.  421 
Rnggles  on  B.  and  Marlowe, 

432 
Runagate,  472 
Reynolds  on  B.'s  inaccurate 

quotations,  32 

S_xv(Lord),47 
Schmidt,  328. 
Scholarship  of   S.,  286,    399; 

how  indicated,  292 
Scott   (Sir   W.),   His  output 

and  B.'s,  40 
Searching  wounds,  211 
Seeds  of  time,  249 
Seneca,  67, 199,  403 
Shadows  and  motes,  262 


Shakespere  (William)  :  A 
Misfit,  5,  290;  Life,  10,  23; 
Probabilities,  16 

Shakespeare:  Spellingof  xi.; 
Aristocrat,  20;  Lawyer.  18; 
on  common  people,  21  ;  a 
scholar,  24  (chap,  xiii., 
xiv.);  Accomplishments, 
24;  Quartos,  56;  a  classic, 
413 

Shelley  on  B.,  35 

Silence  and  wonder,  84 

Slander,  257 

Sleep  in  afternoon,  186 ; 
Nourishes,  186 

Sleeping  laws,  439 

Sleight,  215 

Slippery  standing,  45-47 

Sly  Ulvsses,  213 

Smith  "(Dr.  William),  Classi- 
cal dictionary,  400 

Sonnets  claim  immortality, 
40-43 

Sophister,  472 

Sound  of  wind,  244;  at  night 
243;  Sweet,  243 

Spain,  a  hot  region,  270 

Spedding (James):  On  works 
wrongly  attributed  to  B., 
8.  37;  B.'s  Ideas  nn  hope, 
95:  on  style  in  B.  and  S., 
283;  on  Inequality,  3i;ii 

Spenser  (Edmund).  329,  .348 

Spilling  out  the  tongue,  233 

Staged.  263 

Stars  and  fires,  233 

Stapfcr  on  classics  in  S.,  305 

Starting-holes,  262,  452 

Staunton  (Howard)  on  clas- 
sic US''  of  words  in  S..  392 

Stores  (Mrs.)  on  B.-S.,  27 

Stale.Keeping,72;  andpride, 
113 

Sturr  (Frank)  and  Gibson's 
Essays  of  B.,  129 

Strange,  280,  473 

Stronach  on  Sidney  Lee's 
Life  of  S.,  28 

Study  of  imagination,  269 

Success,  too  much,  225 

Suck,  4,3 

Sunshine  everywhere,  174 

Sweet.  Turning  sour,  2J2; 
Speech,  243.  436 

Swelling,  Pride,  &e.,  238,  440, 
450,  453 

Sympathy  and  antipathy, 
100, 196 


Tacitus,  32.  4.5,  348 

Tancock    (Rev.    O.    W. )    on 

Marlowe,  384,  435,  436,  440. 

447,  458,  471 


Tamburlaine      (Marlowe's), 

422.  453 
Taper-light,  2,53 
Tennyson  and  B.,  71-126 
Terence,  303 
Theobald   (Lewis):   Classics 

in  S.,  223.  303-307,  349,402 
Theobald  (William),  245,  453 
Thrice  double,  &c.,  474 
TibuUus.  303 
Tigers,  461,  464 
Time     -wastes      life,      2j6  ; 

Wrongs  of,  273 
Tops  in  B.  and  S.,  88,  233 
Tossing,  337 
Trash,  271 
Travellers,  279.  437 
Troublers  of  the  world,  230 
Troublesome   reign  of  John 

(Prologue),  421 
True  Tragedy,  55,  449 
Twenty,  276 

Ulysses,  Slv.  213 
Universitylifeof  S.,  289 
Usury,  247 

Vail.    Pride,    Stomach,    &e. 

443 
Valerius  Maximus.  233 
Venom,  Swelling,  238 
Verity  on  Marlowe.  436 
Vining(BanksideS.),  394 
Violets  on  grave,  299 
Virgil,  199,  301,  302,  405,  458 
Vitzthum   (Count)  on  Mar- 
lowe and  S.,  137 

Walsingham  and  B.,  37 

War  medicinal,  249 

What  else  ?  221 

Wheel  of  fortune,  468 

Whiffiers,  275 

White  (R.  Grant)  on  W.  ,S., 

5,  30.  286;  Prosaic  passages 

in  S.,  69  :    Scholarship   of 

S.,  294,  407 
White  (  r.  W.),  Love  in  S..  132; 
242;  Marlowe  and  S.,  455.  479 
Windows  to  the  heart,  271_ 
Wind    begins     scenes,    4i6; 

Sound  of.  2)4 
Witchcraft  and  hope,  103 
Wolsey  (Cardinal), 45 
Wolves,  261.  404 
Wonder,  Philosophy  of,  80; 

begins  scenes,  476 
Words  and  blows,  232 
Wordsworth  (Bishop).  207 
Wounds     driven     in,     240 ; 

Searched,  241 
Wright  (W.  Aldis)  on  S.  Style 

69;  Quoted,  358,  .390,  403 
Wrong  of  time,  273 


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